Lily of the Valley
by YL
Summary: Ichigo x Rukia ::: And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. COMPLETE
1. Letting Go

**Disclaimer: **Nearly forgot to add disclaimer. I mean, why do we even add it? We all know Bleach belongs to the awesome Kubu Tite Sensei! And we're just crazy fans of him. ;D

**Spoilers:** Chapter 181 (End of Soul Society Arc)

**References made to:** Chapter 116, Chapter 24 & 25

**Ramblings:** Ah,my first fanfic! I don't speak much English and neither do the people around me, and I can't remember the last time I read an English book (the horrors O.o)! So please forgive me for being unable to present a piece better than this and ideas on how to make it better is greatly appreciated : ). I got very inspired by Bleach fanfic writers and so just really wanted to write about Rukia and Ichigo. So I did. And I've tried my best.

Oh, and I pick out scenes from the manga and translations of these scenes are done by me, so it might differ from your manga's translation, so don't plummel me if the translation is not to your liking! XD

Please Enjoy! Ichigo x Rukia all the way!

* * *

**Letting Go**

* * *

The white tower, stood tall and imposing against the clear, azure sky.

_How long has it been since I've left the tower?_

She touched her neck, the collar that she had nearly grown accustomed to, no longer there.

_A week… _

She had been imprisoned for seemingly such a long that this freedom now feels almost unreal.

"You shouldn't be running everywhere like that you know. It's not like you've fully recovered," a recognizable, gruff voice came from behind.

_Ichigo…_

She turned to face that familiar spikey orange hair, furrowed brows and intense eyes. She could feel a sort of unease coming over her, the memories of him standing on this same bridge still clearly etched in her mind. His strong build, protective eyes and his body covered in injuries. She could not even begin to describe the relief she had felt when she knew he was still alive, nor could she describe the pain she felt when she thought of what he had to put himself through to save her.

She wanted to walk away, to escape from those eyes, but for some reason or the other, she teetered on her feet and started to fall, but Ichigo's arms swiftly went and steadied her.

"I told you, you shouldn't be running everywhere," Ichigo chided in his usual brusque tone. "The wind's strong here, let's go down."

Rukia's hand touched his arm gently as she shook her head. "I'm fine."

A strange sort of silence fell upon them, her hand resting on his arm that held her shoulder and her face turned away from him. For a moment, time just seemed to freeze there, with only the winds to remind them that time would not wait for them. Perhaps she wanted time to freeze there and then. Because she knew the dam for her tortuous emotions was ready to collapse any moment soon and she needed to hold in these emotions because she had to remain strong for him. Her facade of strength had failed her too many times since she had met him. She did not want it to fail again.

His voice broke the silence. "I'll be leaving in about an hour or so you know."

Her lips quivered slightly. She knew. She wanted to look for him yesterday after she broke the news, but she did not have the courage to. Maybe she wanted him to look for her instead, so that she will not feel that she was the one holding onto all these longing feelings in her heart. Maybe she wanted to pretend that she can actually let go of all these uncertainties that she so desperately wanted to hide. Maybe...

"You're not coming right?" Ichigo said with a hint of resignation in his voice.

"I…" Rukia felt her voice crack.

_I want to go back so badly…_

_I want to go back to staying in that tiny closet of yours…_

…_to go back to the school filled with your crazy friends_

…_to go back to that perverted Kon _

…_to go back to stealing clothes from your little sister_

_To go back to a time when we were always chasing down Hollows_

…_a time when we would spend all day in your room doing nothing_

…_a time when you would insult my drawings_

…_a time when you and I were always together_

…_but…_

The tears were falling now. She could not speak her thoughts out loud because she knew if she did, it would spoil everything. If she said what she was feeling now, she would regret it. Regret it and never be able to let go.

"Please..." Ichigostarted, with an uncostumaryplea in his voice. "Don't cry."

Rukia turned to face him finally and there was an odd look in his eyes.

"It was because I saw you crying, that I couldn't just leave you behind. If you start crying again…" Ichigo stopped in mid-sentence when Rukia suddenly grabbed the front of his kimono.

"You're such an idiot!" She yelled out.

"What? Even till now, this is how you thank me?" Ichigo retorted in annoyance.

"You had to come back to save me! ME! When I told you not to! Look at yourself now! You were injured, your spine was nearly severed, and you now have all these scars… just to save me! I know I've said all these before… but you're just such an idiot! You nearly died… just to save me… and I told you not to… save… me… And did you know how scared I was in that tower, in that stupid tower where I don't have any clue what was happening!"

Rukia was practically choking on her tears as she pressed the top of her forehead against his chest and kept tugging at his kimono as she continued.

"I was so scared… all the time… I didn't know if you were still alive… And then I realized… you were alive… I… I… Then for the past few days, I was also so scared… so scared of facing you… And then yesterday… I don't know how to… how to face you… and I didn't think that… think that…"

…_and I didn't think that it was going to hurt so much._

Her small frame was now shaking uncontrollably as she sobbed. Ichigo stared at her for a while, uncertain what he was supposed to do. Then he gently stroked her hair like he was comforting a child.

"I was scared too," Ichigo confessed quietly, "That's why I didn't look for you yesterday after you told me that you were going to stay. That's why…" His voice trailed off, like he no longer knew what he was supposed to say, or like he realized he should not say what he was going to say.

He wanted so badly to just pull her right into his arms. Just so that she would stop crying. He did not save her to make her cry. He did not know that it would be so hard for her. And he did not expect it to be so hard for himself too. And if he held her any closer to himself now…

"I saved you, because I had to somehow return everything that you had given me," Ichigo finally said.

"I didn't give you anything; I stole everything away from you! I took away your normal life and threw you into this whole big mess! It's my entire fault! I… I…" Rukia was looked up, her eyes swollen and red.

Ichigo's usual hard and stoical expression softened.

"You gave me everything," he whispered as he leaned over and kissed the trail that the tears had left behind on her face.

Rukia gasped softly in surprise when she felt Ichigo's lips gently brush against her cheeks. It was an action that was totally unexpected of Ichigo, unexpected especially after how she had led him on, unexpected especially after how cruel she had been to him. Ichigo seemed to have realized how out of character he was being as well, as he quickly pulled back his head and looked away, a myriad of undecipherable emotions in his eyes.

"I just wanted to thank you, that's all." Ichigo seemed to be forcing every single word through his tightened jaws.

Rukia's hands released his clothes, her eyes focused on the ground and her mind trying to erase the almost nostalgic feel of his warmth against her skin.

"I can't go back, Ichigo," she stated, sounding surprisingly calm after her initial outburst. She had to say these for he deserved to hear as much. And if she did not say these words, she knew she would never be able to let go.

Ichigo looked at her now, his eyes telling her that that was what he came here for. To hear an explanation, perhaps any sort of explanation, from her.

"I do not belong in your world. I belong here, in Soul Society. I belong with my brother, Renji, Hanatarou, Captain Ukitake… and everyone else here. My life belongs here, Ichigo. Perhaps finally, my brother will be able to show me what having a family is like. And you've showed me what being alive is like. I've stayed too long in the shadow of the death of Kaien-dono, and now that I've finally learned to step out of that shadow, I have to try living again. So I can't go back with you, Ichigo. I'll just be running away." Her eyes closed gradually as she took a slow, deliberate breath.

Then she opened them again as she released that breath. "And I have to learn to stop running away."

Rukia stopped and they just stared at each other in silence for a while. Then at last, Ichigo gave a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, I guess I understand that."

Ichigo's smile, was always so full of melancholy, a melancholy that she knew not where it begun and she knew not where it would end. She never could read his smile, that unfathomable smile that served to hide his guarded thoughts. Her hand went down to squeeze his hand tightly, hoping that he really, really did understand.

Ichigo went to the side of the bridge and gazed down at the labyrinth that Rukia lived in and would continue living in. He took in a deep breath, wanting to remember everything he had experienced in here, remember everything in this single breath. To remember this world where Rukia belongs. To remember these broken walls, cracked grounds… and this bridge where he finally saw Rukia. To remember the relief he felt. The pain. The confusion. The anger. The joy. The tears. The memories of that night. That very last night he would ever have with her.

He lay down, his arms spread wide open on the floor and his eyes staring at the sky.

"You know, the sky here isn't all that different. In fact, it's probably exactly the same."

Rukia went over to sit beside him. She then lifted his head so that it rested on her lap.

Ichigo frowned and attempted to get off. "What are you doing? It's stupid."

Rukia smacked his head. "Stop moving!"

"I'm saying this is stupid!"

"Just shut up and stay down!" Rukia snapped back as she pressed his adamant head down, forcing him to stay in position.

Reluctantly, Ichigo stopped fidgeting and rested his head on her lap. He was pretending to be annoyed, but truth was, he enjoyed catching the little glimpse of that usual exasperating Rukia he knew. The Rukia who never listened what he had to say. The Rukia who always commanded him to do things the way she wanted them to be done. The Rukia who always got her way.

And he had to admit, lying there like that was an amazingly peaceful feeling. The wind was caressing his face. Her laps were soft behind his head. Her fingers were lightly brushing his hair away from his face. He closed his eyes, wanting to turn this moment into an eternity.

"Thank you for not dying," Rukia said softly.

"It sounds familiar. You said that before, didn't you? After the Grand Fissure fight."

"You were awake?"

"Barely."

"Did you cry that night?"

"What?"

"In front of your mother's grave. It was raining, I couldn't tell."

"No, stupid."

"Don't lie, you idiot."

"Don't ask if you think you know the answer!"

"Just answer the question."

"Yeah, I was." Ichigo admitted quietly.

A pause.

"But I won't have to anymore."

Another pause.

"It has stopped raining."

"Really?" Rukia asked.

"Yeah."

**-**

**- - -**

**-**

Everyone was gathered at the gate to bid their final farewells. A lot of memories were made, memories that would not be easily forgotten. Ichigo's and Rukia's eyes met. A smile spread across both their faces.

"Goodbye, Rukia."

"Ah…" was her reply.

As he headed towards the gate, Rukia called out, "And… thank you, Ichigo!"

He glanced back, smiling.

_That's what I should be saying. _

_Thank you, Rukia. _

Then Ichigo and his faithful comrades, disappeared into the gate, returning to the world where they came from.

_The rain… _

…_seemed to have finally stopped._

* * *

-YL –

* * *

**Notes:** There was probably be a lot of OOC here, but I wanted to show that something in Ichigo changed because of Rukia. Actually, when I was reading chapter 181, I really thought Ichigo was just being really un-Ichigo, so I wanted to reflect his change. And I was crying like crazy when I was writing my own stupid fic so it might have impeded my ability to think properly. Yes, I'm some emotional freak that kept re-reading chapter 181 and kept crying. sweat

Anyway, I think my next chapter will explain some quite obvious things.

Thank you for all who read! ; )


	2. Holding On

**Disclaimer:** Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite Sensei!

**Spoilers:** Up to Chapters 180 & 181

**References**: Chapters 116 & 117 and Chapter 94

**Notes:** This is a flashback chapter on what happened before Chapter 1. I wrote "Letting Go" first, and due to my eccentricity, I cannot make myself put it in Chapter 2 to follow the time line. Yes, I'm being irritating.

English is not my primary language, so if anything sounds really weird in my story, please tell me, because sometimes I do not realise it no matter how many times I proof-read it.

Please Enjoy!

* * *

**Holding On**

* * *

"Rukia?"

Like a deer caught in the headlights, she stared, wide-eyed in his direction. Ichigo was returning from his night stroll, when he saw a petite figure pacing back and forth in the shadows, along the corridor where his room was. Rukia seemed like she was going to take off when Ichigo quickly grabbed her by her wrist.

_She's so thin,_ Ichigo thought. He had always felt that Rukia was a little to thin even back in the human world. And now, not only had she lost a lot of weight, she looked like she was in poor health as well, with her ashen face and sunken eyes. He thought she should be looking a lot healthier by now.

"Come in," Ichigo said as he dragged her by the hand in the direction of his room.

"Let go of me, you moron! Why should I go in just because you tell me to?" Rukia started yelling, clearly pissed by the fact Ichigo was not even asking her and was simply commanding her.

"Then what are you here for?" Ichigo yelled back, still dragging her along without bothering to look back.

"I was just passing by!" Rukia was furiously trying to pry his fingers off from her wrist.

"That's right. Passing by the third storey corridor when your room's on the first," Ichigo scoffed, every word thick with sarcasm.

"Let me go!"

Ichigo turned sharply to face her and forced her against the wall as he placed a hand across her mouth. "It's late. Stop screaming at me."

"I wasn't screaming," Rukia hissed vehemently at him but obediently allowed him to bring her into his room.

The room was empty, except for a futon and his zanpakutou at one corner. Rukia sat down on the futon, which already had the faint familiar smell that distinctly belonged to Ichigo. This was the third day since the battle and she heard that Ichigo had been recuperating during that whole three days. She was vacillating between going in to visit him and leaving when Ichigo caught her loitering near his room, which was totally unexpected since she believed he would still be resting in his room.

"How ya feeling?" Ichigo asked off-handedly as he took off his sandals. He proceeded to take off his outer black kimono but changed his mind.

There was no reply.

"I asked you a question," Ichigo scowled as he sat down cross-legged across her.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" Rukia lowered her eyes and her small fists tightened as she pressed them down against her laps.

"Che." Ichigo folded his arms. "I told you I wouldn't die."

"Only an idiot like you will stand there and act all macho, saying "I've come to save you" when you're practically bleeding to death from your wounds," Rukia retorted. Her voice still held that usual mocking tone he had grown so used to, but at the same time, it was filled with concern that she was trying to conceal.

"I came all the way to save you. Can't you at least act a little happy? Instead of…"

"That's exactly what you said then too…" Rukia cut him off, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

A slight indication of embarrassment flickered through his eyes before his usual scowl deepened.

"Do you know how stupid I felt when you landed right in front of me on the bridge and then just walked past me to tend to Hanatarou?"

"Oh, so _now_ you're complaining," Ichigo growled. He allowed a few seconds to pass before he sighed and uncrossed his arms. "Hanatarou looked like he was going to die from fright or something. And you… you looked… I was just glad you seemed fine."

Rukia eyes looked up with an invisible smile, knowing that expressing his concern verbally was not exactly Ichigo's forte.Watching him, a tiny crease appeared between her brows as she frowned slightly. Then she leaned forward and reached out to touch the scar that was slightly visible from the collar of his kimono. "It's from that time, isn't it?"

Ichigo jerked backwards, shocked from the feel of her finger on his chest.

Her touch was so soft…

_Damn it, Ichigo! Get a grip on yourself! What's wrong with you!_

"It'll… it'll go away. Don't… don't worry about it," Ichigo managed to stutter as he tried to order his racing heart to slow down.

Rukia returned to her original seated position. "I'm so sorry. I was the one who made your life into a big mess. And I was the one who caused you so much pain. And I know that I can never be able to make it up to you no matter what I do…"

"Rukia, stop it!" Ichigo slammed his palms against the floor. He stopped before continuing to speak in a more controlled voice. "Stop apologizing to me. I should be the one saying that."

Hesitation.

"That's why I swore that I'll never let you die. That's why I swore that no matter what, I will save you," he said quietly, as he closed his hands into two tightly clenched fists.

The silence in the room was deafening but Ichigo did not know what to say. Perhaps there was just too much emotions that were running wild and were indescribable by words, or perhaps there were simply too much he wanted to say that he did not know how to start. He felt so laden with guilt that he just wanted her to forgive him, but it just seemed too impossible. Forgiveness was not even the thing he was looking for. He just wanted…

He felt a pair of arms wrapping around him, pulling him tightly into her embrace. He was stunned and his first instinct was to yell and push her away. However, his body refused to react to his instinct and instead, he just stayed still in her arms. Then tentatively, nearly irrationally, his trembling hands slowly reached up and returned the hug, grabbing tightly onto her robe. The comfort of Rukia's warmth against him was beyond description, beyond anything he had ever dared to desire.

_I have officially gone mad, _his logical mind told him. _But…_

"Rukia…" He uttered her name for the third time today, but this time, with a swarm of feelings he never knew he had for her.

She cupped his face in her two small hands. His hands went up, covering her hands with his. Her eyes were boring right through him, her gaze so intense that he nearly felt that he could not breathe. He could still feel the tiny tremors in his hands, but without thinking of what he was doing, he started to run his right hand slowly through her soft raven hair. She abruptly stood up and his eyes followed her as she walked across the room and turned off the lights. The room was suddenly thrown into darkness and before Ichigo's eyes had even fully adjusted to the dark, Rukia was back in his arms again.

His mind could not fully comprehend the situation or its implications as he held her, for at that moment, he was just trying to grasp at the reality of that riveting view that was before him. The moonlight cast soft, almost ghostly shadows across Rukia's face, accentuating her beautifully defined features and making her appear more alluring than what he had ever remember her to be. She took his left hand in both of hers, caressing her face against his palm, then breathing right into it, as if she wanted to absorb all of his existence into her.

"Ichigo…" her voice was nearly inaudible in its tenderness.

_Why have I never noticed how beautiful she was before?_

Her beauty was so ethereal it seemed surreal. But the warmth of her skin against him was surely true. Her fragile, small frame that he held in his arms was surely true. These feelings he was immersed in were surely true.

_Maybe I've always notice, but I never wanted to admit it…_

She was now leaning over him, her delicate hair falling downwards and brushing lightly against his cheeks. Their fingers intertwined naturally, like they had been doing it for a lifetime, even though this was the first time theywere holdingeach other this way. He could feel the flush warming his face uncontrollably as she gazed at him with the gentlest smile he had ever seen on her.

_But why then, why do your eyes hold such sadness?_

He wanted to ask, but Rukia covered his mouth with hers before he could utter a single word. And at that moment, all the thoughts that were running through his head, faded away.

-

- - -

-

He woke as the sun was in his eyes, which was quite unexpected, as he was typically up before the sun reached so high. He turned to face Rukia.

She was not there.

"She could have woken me up…" Ichigo mumbled to himself as he rolled over to the side where Rukia was sleeping in last night. The faint scent of her still lingered on the sheets and he laid there for a long while, indulging in the sweet fragrance she had left behind. Then his stomach growled, telling him it was probably way past breakfast. He got up and noticed the clothes that Rukia had folded neatly beside him.

_I never knew she was so thoughtful._

He was grinning as he dressed himself in hisblack shinigami atire.

"Good morning Kurosaki-kun!" Inoue greeted in her usual chirpy self. "You're up unusually late today."

"Late night," Ichigo replied vaguely and then asked, "Did you see Rukia this morning?"

Inoue nodded her head, "She said she was going to visit Byakuya-san. Do you want breakfast?"

Ichigo waved his hand to dismiss the idea as he started to jog off, thinking he could get some food later. "It's okay."

"Really? It's not good to go out on an empty stomach," Inoue insisted.

"It's really okay. Thanks!" Ichigo yelled back a reply and went out.

"Inoue-san? Was that Kurosaki?" Ishida asked as he appeared out of the corner of the hallway.

"Yes. He looks like he is in an awfully good mood today," Inoue commented. Paused and then continued, "Rukia-san on the other hand, still seemed like she hasn't got much energy…"

"Hmm…" Ishida responded simply as he pushed up his glasses with that usual look of contemplation on his face.

-

- - -

-

As Ichigo wandered the streets, he could not help but wish he was able to see Rukia that morning. He was feeling so much better and he could spend much more time with her now, but it seemed she had her own things to do. Although slightly peeved, he knew that he could always spend time with her after they go back. She had her own things to settle in Soul Society and it was only right that he allowed her to do whatever she wanted while she was still here.

It was evening when Ichigo returned and Inoue was hanging around the house as usual. He had no idea what she did all day, but it seemed she had not went out.

"Has Rukia returned?" Ichigo asked, trying to sound as uninterested as possible.

"She returned to her room right after dinner," Inoue replied.

Ichigo arched his brows slightly, surprised that she had gone to rest so early, but he quickly took back his surprise, mumbled a "thank you" and headed towards Rukia's room. He rapped lightly at her door but there was no reply. Wondering if she had already fallen asleep, he slid the door open slightly and through the small crack, he could see that the room was dark and quiet. He pulled out the plant he was keeping inside his kimono. It was a single stalk with a lovely fragrance that emanated from the several small white flowers that grew from the main stem. He had plucked it from the meadows earlier that afternoon and had initially felt tremendously stupid for having such an idea.

Actually, he _still_ felt stupid.

_But I just really wanted to see her expression when she received this._

Somewhat disconsolated, he left the plant on the floor near the door, before closing it silently. And then he went off.

He never heard the shuffle of feet going across the room to the door.

And he never heard the soft sobbing that came after.

-

- - -

-

He was running through the streets, searching for Rukia.

_I hadn't been able to have a full conversation with her since that night and now Inoue comes and tells me she cannot find Rukia?_

His heart pounded hard as he ran, not sure of what to think. The last time she disappeared, she was taken away to Soul Society.

_If I hadn't been so dismissive about her all the time, that wouldn't have happened! _

He still blamed himself for being unable to protect Rukia that time. He did not want to repeat his mistake.

_She has to be there. She has to be there. She has to be there. She has to be there. She has to be there..._

It was frustrating that her spiritual power was so weak that he could not sense her anywhere. There was only one more possible place he could think of.

_She has to be there!_

"Kurosaki-kun…" Inoue was huffing behind him, "Can you run a little slower? I… I can't run that fast."

"Sorry, sorry," Ichigo apologized, forgetting that Inoue was also searching for Rukia with him.

_Please be there, Rukia!_

Then he saw her, talking to Shiba Kuukaku. It seemed she was all right and had finally found the courage to face the kin of Kaien. Somewhere inside him, a tense knot was undone and a silent sigh escaped.

"There you are!" Ichigo called out.

"Ichigo… Inoue…"

"It seems all your business here has all been settled. Let's go back. Someone will be opening the gate for us tomorrow." Ichigo stuck his hands into his pockets and continued talking in his standard blasé manner. "You aren't fully recovered yet, so you better go back and rest early in preparation for tomorrow."

"Oh yes… that…" Rukia's hand was clutched uneasily in front of her chest. Ichigo noticed her discomfort and his brows involuntarily twitched.

"I've decided… to remain in Soul Society…"

Ichigo stared at her blankly, the words registering very slowly in his head.

_You're staying? You're… staying? Here? You're not going back with us… with me?_

His face slowly changed to something that was between shock, disillusionment and sorrow. It was getting so hard to think as there were so many things going through his head.

_You're staying?_

_You're staying?_

_You're… staying?_

_Then what was that night…_

_Oh…_

_That's right, she never promised me anything._

_She never said she was going to leave Soul Society._

_She never said she was going to leave with me._

_I just assumed._

_How stupid of me to assume…_

_She never said anything… she must have already decided then._

_That's why… that's why her eyes were…_

Ichigo forced himself not to get mad. He forced himself to fight the urge to clench his fist. He forced himself to smile because he saw that look in her dark eyes, staring at him so intently, begging him to forgive her for the choice she had made. His eyes looked away from her, not willing to be tortured by those eyes of hers.

_That's right. She never said she was going to leave with me._

"I see… That's good…" Ichigo said with a false smile on his face.

_What am I saying?_

"Since you've already made this decision yourself…"

_What am I saying, Kurosaki Ichigo! Why am I forcing myself to say these things!_

"If you now feel that…"

_Why am I thinking of your tears? Why am I thinking of how painful it was for you to go and how painful it was for me to see you go? _

"…feel that you want to stay on…"

_Kurosaki Ichigo… You're such an idiot._

"Isn't that a really good thing?"

_Idiot, idiot, idiot! I'm such an idiot! Idiot, IDIOT, **IDIOT**!_

He made himself look back at her and gave her the biggest smile he could muster at that moment.

_But I'll do this for you, Kuchiki Rukia. That's how big an idiot I am. It's just for you… Rukia…_

Rukia returned the smile, her beautiful eyes filled with gratitude.

_Rukia…_

…

_I finally remember why… why I wanted to save you so badly…_

…

…

_I no longer wanted to see you cry…_

* * *

**- YL -**

* * *

**Notes: **Probably some OOC here and there, but I really do think that the Soul Society Arc changed everyone a little. Or at least, revealed to us some different sides of them. Like, I would never had imagined seeing a ditzy Ishida (I don't know if you can use it for guys, but that's the only word I can think of right now)! Inoue does strange things to him. Hahahaha...

I assumed Rukia and Ichigo were in the same building as when Inoue went to look for Rukia in Chapter 180, it seemed she didn't travel very far. And it also seemed that they saw Rukia everyday (hence they were worried when she disappeared on the day before) so I thought they should be hanging around the same building. The manga didn't explicitly mention anything, did it?

Thanks for reading!


	3. Liar Liar

**Disclaimer: **I'm not a manga-ka, so how can this belong to me? Yes, Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite Sensei who tortures us with his plot twists.

**Spoiler: **If you've read this far, you should know that everything here is the spoiler for the ending of Soul Society Arc

**Reference:** Chapter 182 & 183 (Actually, the whole thing is more or less based on 182, 183, so don't read it if you don't want to know what Ichigo is doing)

**Ramblings: **Yes, it's a big over-analysis of everything that Ichigo does. So it's thoughts, thoughts and more thoughts. Angst. Ha. Don't we love it.

* * *

**Liar Liar**

_

* * *

_

Stupid window…

Ichigo was crouching on the ledge of his room window, feeling stupid as he was locked out of his own house. He wondered if he could possibly just pass through the window since he was after all, more or less a spirit right now. He had only seen something like that once, when Rukia had just emerged out of his wall the first time they met…

_Rukia… _

_Damn it._

Ichigo started banging on the window to wake up the idiotic Kon, who was probably having some idiotic dream, judging from his idiotic expression. He was seriously starting to get annoyed when Kon suddenly woke up, probably from his dream, rather than the loud knocks on the window that did not seem to reach his deaf ears no matter how hard Ichigo pounded on it.

Kon excitedly opened the window and started rambling, all of which, Ichigo was not interested in listening. Kon, in his typical idiocy, was rather slow in realizing that Rukia was not with him.

"Eh? Where's Nee-san?" Kon asked.

Ichigo froze, although he was expecting the question. He was glad he was back facing Kon because he did not want anyone to see the expression on his face right now. No one needed to know what he was feeling right now.

"She's in Soul Society," he managed to say, his voice betraying none of his emotions.

"What! Then what did you go to Soul Society for!" Kon yelled vociferously at him, making a great deal out of it, as Ichigo had predicted he would.

Ichigo slammed the shinigami permit that Ukitake had given him onto Kon's head and just as he hoped, the pill that contained Kon's soul popped right out and his body fell lifelessly onto the ground.

"I'm sorry," Ichigo said as he picked up the green pill, speaking to it directly. "I'll listen to your grievances tomorrow. I just want to have a good rest today."

_And I really cannot deal with this right now._

Ichigo lay on his bed in his physical body, not realizing how exhausted he actually was. Not exactly physically worn out, but more of emotionally drained. He was back. This familiar bed, this familiar room, this familiar world… yet none of them could comfort him. He felt so stupid, thinking that perhaps Rukia would change her mind at the very last moment and return with him… stupid, truly, utterly stupid.

_She's staying. _

_That's right, she's staying._

_She there right now, and I'm here right now._

_That's right, she stayed._

_Of course she'd stay._

Ichigo turned to lie on his left side, facing his closet. _The _closet.

_Stupid closet._

He then turned again to lie on his right side instead, facing the wall this time and his arm resting under his head.

_She belongs there._

_She made the choice herself…_

…

_Damn it, stop thinking about her!_

Ichigo turned again and was back to his original position, on his back and staring straight at the ceiling.

_Don't hold on. _

_Don't hold on. _

_Don't hold on._

_I had to say things like, "Isn't that a really good thing?"_

_What crap. _

_It's not like it isn't a good thing or anything, but that isn't really what I wanted to say._

_Damn it._

…

_I didn't want to see you cry._

_No… not for me, ever…_

He placed the back of his forearm against his forehead. A silent sigh escaped.

_What did that stupid girl do to me? _

_All these unfamiliar feelings…_

…

_Rukia…_

Ichigo turned his head to look outside the window.

_The sky's different without you, Rukia. _

_Even if I said the sky wasn't that different then._

_I don't know why, but… it's just different._

"It seemed so much time had passed," Ichigo said softly to himself, "Yet at the same time, it didn't seem that long."

He sat up as he heard a lot of commotion. Then his father suddenly burst into his room with his usual flying kick attack. The usual ruckus went on in his room with his father, while his sisters, as usual, did nothing to stop their insanity. Everything was per normal. So normal, it felt strange.

_The world still stays the same, doesn't it? Even though that now you're gone?_

-

- - -

-

_1st September_

School had begun.

As he got dressed for school, he could not stop but glance at the closet door, as if expecting it to open at any instant. He wanted to restrain himself, but he could not stop his body from moving towards the closet door and sliding it open, only to see that there were nothing more than the extra futons folded neatly inside. His grip on the door tightened as he berated himself for his fatuous thoughts and fatuous actions. Berated himself for hoping to once again see that familiar petite figure hop out of the closet and disappear out from the window. Berated himself for opening the closet door with that hope. Berated himself for his lack of self-control.

_I'll never see her again._

_That's all there is to it._

_So just stop it already._

He slammed the door shut furiously, unable to contain his agitation at his foolishness.

_Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!_

He then glance at his watch, realizing that he should stop standing there like a moron and start moving if he did not want to be late for school. He had placed back Kon into his original plush toy body, but for some unknown reason, Kon's body was in a wreck. If it was the usual Ichigo, he would have made fun of him with some sardonic comments, or just laughed, or tried to make the situation worse. But today, he did not have the energy to do that, only managing to respond with some slipshod apologies to Kon's incessant and exaggerated accusations.

As he stuffed his wallet into his back pocket, he heard something fall to the ground. He turned and picked up the protection amulet his father had given him before he left during the break. He dangled it between his two fingers, thinking that the amulet probably worked, seeing that he was still alive and kicking after all that happened. Well, though technically speaking, he was not the one carrying it. He wanted to return the amulet to his father, but his father, in his usual unexplainable lunacy, tied it to his shirt in a dead knot, saying that he no longer wanted it. They bickered for a while in their characteristic loud voices, before Ichigo left the house with the amulet still tied to his shirt, because he was unable to untie it.

That usual bickering.

_The world still stays the same, doesn't it? Even though that now you're gone?_

-

- - -

-

The usual fuss in school.

Asano, with his usual loudness.

Mizuiro, with his usual polite, well-groomed look.

Even Inoue, Ishida and Chad were their usual self, greeting him in that usual manner, as if nothing had happened in the past month.

The only thing missing was Rukia's nauseating trained smile and fake high-pitched voice.

_I sure don't miss that. _

_That's right. I don't miss that annoying little actress._

_Don't miss her at all._

Everyone had just settled down in their seats when the permit scared the hell out of him when it _shrieked, _"Hollow!" in an exceedingly grating manner. He was really starting to question the sanity of the shinigami, but at least no one else could hear it, save for the other three people. And as a faithful shinigami he had become, he found some reason to escape from school and started his immediate mission of eliminating the Hollow.

As he gave the final slash right down the center of the Hollow's mask, he spun around somewhat triumphantly, expecting to see Rukia. Instead, in place of her were Chad and Inoue. For the second time that day, he wanted to slap himself for having Rukia on his mind again.

_Stop thinking that she's here! _

_She's not here! Not here! NOT HERE!_

As they headed back to school, Ichigo managed to crack a smile as Inoue chatted with her usual vivacious attitude and Chad with his usual companionable silence.

_The world still stays the same, doesn't it? Even though that now you're gone?_

But, the world is not the same.

_**My** world is no longer the same. Now that you're gone._

_

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_

**- YL -**

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**Notes: **I kept wondering if I should say shinigami permit or daikousyou. Which do you guys prefer?

I don't really know if I like this chapter I've written. Kind of lacking in many things I think. But I've re-read it like... I lost count... so when you read it too many times, it just gets blurry. Any kind of comment is greatly appreciated : )


	4. His thoughts, Her thoughts

**Disclaimer: **This disclaimer shall apply to all chapters in this story "Lily of the Valley". Bleach does not belong to me. It belongs to Kubo Tite Sensei. Yes, I'm lazy to put disclaimers.

**Note: **All chapters that follows after this chapter has nothing to do with the actual manga after chapter 183. All is based on my own interpretation of the story from chapter 1 to 183. And of course, my own ideas on what happens after.

Please enjoy reading!

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**His thoughts, Her thoughts**

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Kurosaki Isshin gazed at the photo of his late wife, running his fingers habitually along her face.

"Ichigo came home today, Masaki," he told her, an almost smile on his face.

"He came back safe and sound, so you must have really looked out for him while he was away, hadn't you?"

He would always sit down at the end of the day to talk to his wife who had left him for six years now. It was nearly customary for him to do that everyday; otherwise he would feel a sense of unease. Raising three children all by himself was not exactly the easiest thing to do, but he had made through these six years, with his beloved wife always looking out for him and her children.

It had worried him when he became aware that something was going on in Ichigo's life. He never wanted to question Ichigo about it because he knew Ichigo would probably get mad at him and refuse to tell him anything anyway. Ichigo was stubborn in that way. There were times when Ichigo was not Ichigo, and times when Ichigo would sneak out late at night and times when Ichigo would come back with cuts and bruises. A month back, he even saw Ichigo with some really noticeable large scars on his body. But the father never asked. But he really wished Ichigo would sometimes just tell him so that he did not need to pretend as if he had not noticed anything.

The next night, he once again sat on his bed, with only the company of his wife's photo. He was talking to his wife about Ichigo again.

"You know Dear? Ichigo isn't too energetic these two days. It appears as if there's always something on his mind. He's been like that ever since he returned home yesterday."

He paused and listened to Ichigo come out of the shower and then to the soft 'click' of the closing of his room door.

"It's quiet these days too," he continued. "There was more noise about a while back. Now it's so quiet. It's not like he's changed or anything because he is still trying very hard and giving his best all the time, still that same son we raised. So, how should I put it?"

He paused.

"It's like Ichigo returned as Ichigo, but somehow, it seems that a part of him was taken away, leaving him as an unfinished Ichigo. It's kind of funny the way I'm saying it, but I think you would understand right, Masaki? We've watched him grow up. Our Ichigo is a big boy now, isn't he? He's grown up so fast. As much as I want him to tell me what happened or what's on his mind, I know I shouldn't ask. You know our boy. He's always so adamant. He wouldn't do anything that he doesn't want to do. But no matter what, he would never do anything that will make us ashamed of him, that much I can be sure of. Even if he seems low these days, we know our boy will never break. He's a strong boy."

There was some strange noise coming from Ichigo's room again, although most of the source did not seem to be coming from Ichigo himself.

"Guess it isn't as quiet as I thought it was. I've decided to continue to let Ichigo have the amulet that you gave me. I'm sure you won't be mad. Ichigo has gotten himself into some really dangerous business and he doesn't seem to want to get out of it yet. Of course he wouldn't. He's always been like that.

How long has it been, Dear? Six years, two months and fifteen days… since you've been gone. But I know you've always looking out for him all the while. So you continue to take good care of him, all right? I worry about him sometimes, but he'll be fine. I know that, because he's our son."

He then finally placed the photo of his wife down onto his bedside table.

"What a fine son we have, don't you agree, Masaki?"

-

- - -

-

As usual, Inoue lit some incense for her brother, knelt in front of his tablet and clapped her hands together in a prayer. Ever since that day, more than three months ago, when she saw her brother in Hollow form, this ritual had become more significant for her. Kurosaki-kun might not have understood how important that day was for her, but Inoue was exceedingly grateful for that day. Because she was finally able to personally say her last words to her brother, and by doing so, she was released from her guilt, and at the same time, her brother was also released from his pain.

"Onii-san, I hope you're well today. I still wished I was able to see you when I went to Soul Society, but I guess I don't really know where to find you. It doesn't really matter since I know you are at peace now, no matter where you are. I'm sure you won't mind if I talk a little about Kurosaki-kun now, would you?

I saw him today in school. He looks like he's coping, coping just like everyone else, but I couldn't help but see the emptiness in him today. That day in Soul Society, when Kuchiki-san said she was going to stay, I was truly quite surprised, but Ichigo acted like he was fine. In the end, he didn't say anything and I didn't say anything. Should I have said something, Onii-san? But what could I have said? I really don't know. This is a situation I cannot understand.

When he entered the classroom today, there was a faint forlorn look in his eyes. It was a look I never remembered seeing on him. Then, after he eliminated the Hollow today, I was certain I saw the change in his eyes when he turned back to look at us. Initially, there was a sort of delight, and then it turned to a muted disappointment, before finally changing into a forced kind of indifference. It was apparent, it wasn't us he was expecting or hoping to see. It was Kuchiki-san. On the way back, I tried to act as lively as possible, in hope to cheer him up, but even his smile came across as exceptionally empty today. It is only now that I think I can finally fully comprehend how important Kuchiki-san is to him. She changed his world when she came. And now that she's gone… his world is wedged between the desire to hold on to that world and the desire to move on.

Onii-san, please look out for him, will you? I'll be trying my best too. Please take care now, Onii-san."

Inoue bowed forward slightly and her hands lowered and rested neatly on her lap.

"We're so indebted to him, aren't we?"

She stood up, walked over to her window and placed one of her hands on the ledge. She looked outside, seeing that the sun had almost set and the streetlights were lighting up.

Before long, it started to rain.

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- YL -

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**Post-Chapter Notes: **Ah, I wanted to portray Isshin as a father. A father is a father afterall. Behind his charade of insanity, there lays another loving side of him. Love for his child and love for his wife. Whenever I watch him (even his loony side), I feel that he is such a loving person. So that's the way I wanted him to be. I hope it seems that way to you guys too.

Inoue. A hard girl to read. She's a ditz at times, but she can read people so well. She has feelings for Ichigo but I can never decide how deep are her feelings for him. But it seems that she is a girl who just wants everyone to be happy, cos she is so kind. She would help and protect if she is able to. I say "indebted" though I know it is more than a debt that Inoue is trying to return him. She's just a really strange character.


	5. Sentiments that Bind

**Notes: **I uploaded chapter 4 and 5 at the same time. Why? Cos they actually they had the same title at first. Haha... Then I realised it's kinda funny to give them the same title, so I changed the title. And chapter 5 does happen immediately (or nearly immediately) after chapter 4 ended, so I guess it's okay to upload them at the same time... : )

Please Enjoy!

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Sentiments that Bind

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Ichigo pushed his window closed as it had started to rain. The rain was a light drizzle, falling like a soft curtain of mist, encompassing the night in its soft embrace. Kon was driveling non-stop in the background, but Ichigo was not listening as he stared at the rain. He placed his hand on the window pane, feeling the coolness of the glass against his palm. The night was descending, the last shades of indigo was disappearing and changing into a deep navy blue, the sky visibly adorned only by a hazy thin crescent moon that hung low near the horizon.

The sound of the rain, he realized, was strangely trancelike. The sound was nearly pleasing to the ear, nearly soothing to the soul. He had never really observed the rain in this manner before. He had always avoided it because of the, euphemistically described, "_unpleasant"_ memories it held for him. So it felt odd as he sat there staring at the rain so calmly right now.

He wondered, briefly, whether it would be raining at Soul Society as well. Probably not. He did not remember any rain during the time he was there. Maybe it never rained. He could not be sure. So Rukia would not be staring at the rain as he was now. She would not be listening to the rain as he was now. She would not be under the same sky as he was now.

It was a normal Friday, at least as normal a Friday as his Fridays could get, when she appeared in his room. And from that moment, turned his life upside down. This shinigami called Kuchiki Rukia.

This shinigami that had barged into his life without asking. This shinigami that made his strange life even stranger. This shinigami that changed the way he saw the world.

Kuchiki Rukia.

The annoying permit told him that there was a Hollow in the area again. Once again, he hopped out of his window, knowing fully well that Rukia would not be riding on his back as he rushed towards the area where the Hollow was. He missed that weight against his back, that slender body that weighed probably less than 35kg. He always carried her because she could not run as fast as him in her gigai. He thought that she might have hated being so weak, though never had he heard a single word of grievance from her. That was the way she was. She was always showing a strong front no matter what. She was always serious about having to perform their jobs impeccably. She was always pushing her luck with the Hollows, though never once would she admit that she was struggling or admit that she was being reckless. So he always had to worry about her.

Thinking back, she _must _have hated being so weak. He had seen it in her fierce eyes, how she detested her gigai, but he never said anything. He had always sensed that pride of hers, so he never allowed himself to say anything that would hurt her pride in any way. No, he would never do anything to hurt her in any way.

He finally saw the Hollow. It was time for him to perform his shinigami duty, in the way Rukia had taught him, in the way Rukia would be proud of.

-

- - -

-

Rukia sat at her window, watching the darkness of Soul Society that came with the night. The sky was scattered with an innumerable number of stars, quite different from the sky she had gotten used to seeing in the human world, where the stars were barely visible because of the amount of light pollution. The sky here was definitely much more beautiful than the place where Ichigo was from, but somehow, she much more desired to see the sky over there.

The wind was cooling, as comfortable as she had remembered it to be, ever since she was here. It never got too warm, never got too cold. The weather here always remained, more or less, the same. Only till now, did she notice how static Soul Society was, now that she had experienced the ever changing world Ichigo lived in. Before she met Ichigo and was forced to stay in the human world for an unduly long time, she never noticed, or appreciated, how diverse his world was. In the past, she saw the changes, registered them in her head, but never stopped to wonder. She just went back and forth the two worlds, doing her job faithfully, trying her best to uphold the good name of the Kuchiki family.

If she had never met that hot-headed, short-tempered, argumentative boy with unbelievable spiritual powers, she would not be sitting here right now, thinking about such trivial matters. A mere 15, 16-year-old boy changed her entire view on life. A mere human boy called Kurosaki Ichigo.

This boy who took virtually all her shinigami powers away when she had only intended to give him half. This boy who caused her to be stranded in the human world after committing a felony of Soul Society. This boy who later risked everything to save her.

Kurosaki Ichigo.

The name left a dull ache in her heart. She wondered what Ichigo was doing now. Perhaps he was chasing Hollows right now. Or perhaps he was sitting at his desk, dutifully revising his schoolwork. Or perhaps he was just spending some quality time with his family members, who were the most important people in his life. She smiled musingly as she rested her head on her arms that were placed on the ledge of the window. She already missed Ichigo's irrational squabbling with Kurosaki-san every morning. And his permanent scowl that made him look like he was constantly annoyed. And his eyes that seemed to say that he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Sometimes she hated that. She hated how he was so pertinacious about carrying the burden all by himself, even if the burden was not his to bear, even if he was near to collapsing from the weight. She hated how he always blamed everything on himself, always acting like he could handle everything, always acting like he knew everything. And she hated how he always attacked impulsively, always without anything resembling a plan in mind and always with a mindset that it did not matter if he died in battle. So she always had to worry about him.

Those impetuous brown eyes.

She never realized she would miss those eyes so much.

-

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-

And Ichigo was done with the low level Hollow. The spirit that the Hollow was after was cowering in a corner, clearly terrified and unable to comprehend what had just happened. Ichigo strode over and performed the soul burial as usual. The spirit faded into a beautiful whitish-blue effulgence before it coalesced into a small, black, Hell Butterfly. It fluttered upwards. Ichigo looked up, squinted, and then raised a hand to partially shade his eyes from the glare of the streetlamps.

He realized it had stopped raining.

Rukia resembled the rain a little. The rain that came quietly, created a storm, and then without another word, left quietly again. It left only a trace of its scent behind and formed little puddles on the ground. But the scent would fade and the puddles would dry. And no evidence of the rain's existence would be left behind.

As ephemeral as the rain.

The butterfly fluttered out from the glare and continued to flap its wings, as if excited to look for its new home. Where it heads and how it reaches, he never knew and never asked. The butterflies just always seemed to know their way.

He wondered, just for a split second, if this particular butterfly would reach Rukia and convey his thoughts to her.

He stood there, and watched the Hell Butterfly slowly disappear into the darkness of the night sky.

-

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-

Rukia was still sitting at the window and staring into the night sky, when from the corner of her eyes, some movements caught her attention.

She smiled, thinking that someone was not doing their job well again.

It flitted around her for a while. Then the Hell Butterfly finally stopped, and rested on her hand.

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**- YL -**

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**Post-Chapter Notes: **I hope you enjoyed the read. I think, this was the least angsty of my Ichigo x Rukia chapters. Haha... I do notcompleted the next few chapters in my laptop yet... so the next few chapters might be slow. Plus school. + sigh +

Anyway, thanks to everyone who have read and enjoyed my work! And all reviews have been and will be greatly appreciated!


	6. Careless Whispers

**Notes: **A bit of drama here I guess. I didn't realise I have not updated for so long! Anyway, I think this chapter takes on a different tone compared to the 5 chapters in front. But I guess it has to be different since the verbal us and the inner us is different.

Please Enjoy!

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**Careless Whispers**

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"How long do you plan to mope around?" was the first thing out of Renji's mouth when he entered her room and saw her sitting by the window, again.

"I'm not," was her flat reply.

"You've been stuck in this stupid room since he left! If you don't call that moping, what the hell do you call it?" Renji hollered stridently as he sat himself down on her bed.

"Do you know that it's really rude of you to just come into my room like that without as much as a knock?" Rukia stated in an irritatingly unmoved voice.

Renji chose to ignore her comment. "You're no longer in prison, you know. You don't have to keep sitting in that chair and facing that dumb window all day long."

"Do you think the sky here is any different from the other side?" Rukia asked. Her voice held a subtle wistfulness in its deceiving monotony.

"Huh?"

"Is it any different from the human realm?"

Renji frowned and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and then clasping his hands together. "You really should stop thinking about that kid."

"That _kid_ saved our sorry asses, Renji."

"It's not like I'm not thankful he saved us from that Aizen bastard, but it's not going to help even if you keep sulking all day." Renji stood up and walked over and positioned himself in front of her. He bent and placed his hand on her shoulder firmly. "And you were the one who chose to stay."

Rukia's eyes shot up at him. She stood up abruptly and smacked his hand away. Viciously.

Renji never remembered seeing her so heated before. There was a fiery in her eyes that were mixed with so much sadness that he felt conflicted on what he was to do. And he had been faced with so many predicaments, right from the prelude and to the conclusion of what was considerably one of Soul Society's greatest calamities. From apprehending her, to waiting for her death penalty, to saving her and to watching her stay behind, there was not a moment when he would not be struggling with his thoughts and his actions. Coming to terms with the unexpected captains' betrayal and preparing for the war that was to come soon after, was much easier than dealing with her right now.

But this was different from that time when she adopted into the Kuchiki family. That time, she looked like she did not want to join the Kuchiki, but Renji had encouraged her to go because he believed it was the best path for her. He remembered that dismayed look in her eyes as she pushed his hand away with a dejected "thank you". Truth be told, he did not know if he did the right thing then by inadvertently impelling her into a decision. But this time, Renji believed he did the right thing because he had kept his silence and allowed her to make the decision herself. Yet this time…

"You were never like this."

"Like what?"

"Like this!" He heaved a frustrated sigh as he crossed his arms. "I don't even understand what you are angry about!"

"I'm not angry about anything."

"Don't tell me you're not angry!"

"I said I'm not angry."

Her back still faced him and the lack of emotion in her voice acerbated him. He marched over to her and grabbed her by her arm and forced her to look at him with a strong tug. "You won't be acting like this if that's the truth!"

"I said I'm not…"

"Stop lying to me!"

"STOP ACTING LIKE YOU KNOW ME!"

Rukia wrenched her arm out of his grasp as she yelled at him, and Renji just stared at her unbelievably, unable to say anything. There was this sudden realization that after Rukia had been adopted into the Kuchiki family, their distance had grown. Maybe so much so that he no longer could understand her. Or maybe she had changed in that two, three months in the human world that he no longer understood her. Or maybe, he never did understand her, even if he had thought otherwise. He watched her as she hugged herself with one arm and looked away, her brows furrowed.

"Then tell me why. Why do you keep having that rueful look on your face?" He kept his voice composed as he did not wish to argue with her.

Rukia said nothing, her eyes still focused away from him, staring into that non-existent distance.

"You wanted to leave with him, didn't you?"

Her silence told him that he was right.

"Then why didn't you?"

"Don't make it sound so easy, Renji."

"I am not making it..."

"You are!" Anger was creeping into her voice.

"I. AM. NOT." He spat out every single word through tightened jaws, trying desperately not to lose control of his growing anger at the way she was acting. Then he let out an exasperated sigh. "You could have just left with the kid and no one would have stopped you, not after all the shit they had put you through."

Rukia gave a mirthless laugh as she shook her head and hugged herself even tighter. "What would that accomplish, Renji? Tell me, what would that have accomplished?" Her voice was beginning to tense up with her over-suppressed emotions.

"I don't know, okay?" Renji threw up his arms in aggravation. "It's just got to be better than you being miserable here."

"Better than me being miserable here? So I'm supposed to just run off and live happily ever after? He's just a kid, Renji. _I'm _the adult here. _I'm _the one who is supposed to make the right decisions. Look at me Renji. I'm a freaking shinigami with barely any spiritual powers! What am I going to do there huh? Nothing! I can't do anything there Renji! And there isn't any reason for me to be there anymore! I'll just be a burden to him! I had been a burden to him from the very start! Don't you think that I've already screwed up enough of his life! And if I leave, I would once again besmirch the good name of the Kuchiki family! So what was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to do so that no one would be miserable!" Rukia was shouting, her whole face filled with resentment for her decision and resentment for her helplessness and resentment for her uncontrollable feelings.

"I don't know Rukia! I DON'T KNOW! How should I know what to do when you fall in love with some stupid, human kid?"

"I'm not in love with him!"

"Yeah? Then why do you want to go back? Then why do you keep having that look on your face? Then why do you keep asking me these kind of questions as if I would have some kind of answers to them!"

"Because you're supposed to be my best friend! You're supposed to understand!" Her pair of accusatory eyes glared at him pointedly.

"DAMN IT, RUKIA! You're always looking at me this way, always making me feel like _I'm _responsible for making all your goddamn decisions!"

Renji finally blew up. He was getting sick and tired of seeing her this way. And sick and tired of seeing himself this way.

"That bastard destroyed your life! You gave up everything to save his and his family's goddamn lives! That's why that bastard had to come and save you! If he didn't, I would have gone off to put an end to his miserable life myself! So why are you wrenching your heart out like this for that kid! Why do you have to make yourself so miserable? What's so good about a stupid human kid?

And that's right, I DON'T THINK that you're in love with that kid and I DON'T THINK that you should leave with that kid, because you're just mixing in your feelings for Kaien with that kid who looks like him. You're just taking him as a Kaien substitute because you think that if you do something right this time, you can make up for all your stupid guilt you have inside of you! You think you're going to be able to redeem yourself with some goddamn substitute…"

A slap went across his left cheek. So brutal and so unexpected that all he registered was a shot of pain followed by a throbbing sensation on his face. And then he met her chilling glare.

"Don't insult me, Renji," Rukia said icily.

It was the first time that Rukia had hit him like that and the emotion that followed shock was anger. He roared furiously and grabbed the chair which was within an arm's reach and threw it against the wall, breaking it. In silence, Rukia, with her fists clenched tightly by her sides, watched this side of Renji she had never seen before. Whether it was anger or fear or some other emotion in her eyes, Renji could not tell. All he knew was that he was starting to lose control and that nothing was going to come out of this if it was to continue.

"I'm just trying to tell you, Rukia. Stop trying to push the blame around because you are too afraid to take responsibility for _YOURSELF_. You make yourself responsible for every single thing except when it comes to _YOURSELF_. It's _your _life Rukia. Not mine, not the Kuchiki's, not Kaien's. I'll do anything for you Rukia, as long as you feel that you can take responsibility for the consequences. If you don't move, don't ask, don't decide, there is absolutely nothing I can do to help you. That's all I'm trying to tell you."

And Renji left the room, slamming the door behind him. He stood and leaned against the door for a moment. Then he heard Rukia cry. Rukia never cried. She was always holding back her tears, always being that dignified girl he grew up knowing, always hiding behind that barrier she had built around herself. A barrier Renji was never able to tear down.

Yet that kid, that Ichigo, had slowly pried that barrier away. For the first time, Renji saw a softness in Rukia's usual hard and emotionless eyes. For the first time, he felt that Rukia was not just some really distant, plastic doll, mechanically doing what was expected of her. And for the first time, when that kid was bleeding to death on the ground, he saw her cry. And now she was crying again. That kid was always making her cry.

"Damn that stupid kid," Renji cursed under his breath as he walked away, unwilling to admit that in fact, he was actually just mad at his own ineptitude.

* * *

- YL -

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	7. Silent All These Years

**Ramblings: **I have not updated in like forever! And I've chosen another song title to be my chapter title. But song titles usually sound so nice, it's hard to resist. :)

Please continue to read my fic if you like it! I love you people! Please Enjoy this chapter!

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**Silent All These Years**

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Sitting across her, he watched Rukia speak, mostly about her brief stay in the human realm, that realm where he was unable to keep track of her. He had always kept his distance from her, always vigilantly wearing that armor of frigidity on him. But despite his apparent impassiveness, he had always watched her from where she could not see him. From an unseen place where he could keep her safe.

But now he was finally starting to understand how much Rukia had suffered because of his detached behavior. She always thought that he detested her for being unable to meet up to his expectations. She always believed that she was incompetent and was putting the Kuchiki's good name to shame because she was so weak. And she always felt hurt when she thought that he disliked her so much so that he refused to ever look her in the eye.

Yet, that was never the case.

He had never set any expectations for her. He just wanted her to do things at her own pace, to live the way she wanted and to be protected from the malice of Soul Society by the virtue of their family name. He never imagined that she would be so pressurized by the Kuchiki name and be ashamed of herself.

He never knew because he could never look her directly in the eye before, not because he despised her, but because she reminded him greatly of his beloved wife, Hisana. He only observed her when she was not watching, and each time, it was always just a brief glance. He never saw her fear, never saw her pain, never saw her shame, never saw the results of his intransigent stolidity. Even currently, as she talked, she kept looking away, like she was still feared him.

Now that he was finally looking at her, he realized she was not as alike to Hisana as he had made himself believe her to be. Indeed, their resemblance was striking, amazingly striking even as far as siblings would go, but in the end, Rukia was Rukia, and Hisana was Hisana. Their voices were different. Their eyes were different. Their sadness was different.

"Ichigo could even perform reiraku for very weak spiritual aura then…"

Ichigo. Each time she said his name, there was that nearly undetectable tremble in her voice, that split-second lowering of her eyelids and that sadness that lingered on in her eyes. He knew that look well. He saw those same eyes every time he looked at his own reflection. Those rueful, tired eyes. All these years, he looked back at that same broken man in the mirror. Not one day passed in these fifty years that he had not thought of Hisana. Not one day passed in these fifty years that he had not woken up only to miss that warmth beside him. And not one day passed in these fifty years that he had not wished that he could hold her in his arms again.

He wondered if Rukia would remain like that as well. He did not want Rukia to suffer like he did.

He had seen that similar look in her eyes before, which was after Kaien died. He remembered her grief well. She admired that man, perhaps even had feelings for him. She wanted to become more like Kaien's wife, to become more like the woman Kaien loved. But in the end, she was forced to become the woman that took his life away. Then she had tried to hide her pain by working even harder, training herself practically to the point which one might recognize as desperation. He felt that she was putting too much blame on herself and that she was teetering dangerously close to the edge, but he had always kept silent. And he watched her grief fade, only to be replaced by stoicism.

But now her grief had returned, even stronger, even deeper than before. Because she had stumbled across Kurosaki Ichigo.

He was a man who bore a great resemblance to Kaien. Not just in physical appearances, but also similar in their dispositions. Both had a certain charm in their straightforward attitude. Both would take matters into their own hands. And both would place their own lives at stake, fighting valiantly at the frontline, just to protect the things they believed in.

The first time he met Kurosaki, he saw that fire in his eyes; that spark in him that reminded him of Kaien. And he saw the plea in Rukia's eyes. And he heard the desperation in her voice. So he did not kill him that night, though he easily could have. Perhaps somewhere within himself, he wanted Kurosaki to save her because he saw that possibility in that man. So time and time again, he allowed Kurosaki's life to slip by his sword. And the flame of hope that burned within him grew brighter as he watched Kurosaki grow stronger each time he fought him. He knew that if he could not save Rukia with his own hands, Kurosaki Ichigo would.

And then, during their third encounter, at that very moment when Kurosaki broke his kenseikan, he knew with renewed resolution, that if Kurosaki Ichigo could not save Rukia with his own hands, he would. And he did.

Kurosaki released him from his vow to the Kuchiki family. Kurosaki made him see who and what he should be protecting. Kurosaki saved not only Rukia, but he also saved him.

So he was thankful that he had spared Kurosaki's life the first time. And he was thankful that Kurosaki had spared his life during their last fight as well. Because of Kurosaki, he was able to keep his promise to Hisana and protect Rukia. Because of Kurosaki, he was able to sit here now with Rukia and start to understand her from a different perspective. And because of Kurosaki, he was able to cross over from being a complete stranger to being more like a brother to her.

He recalled that day when he laid on the ground, thinking that he was not going to live to see another day. He had told Rukia everything he should had told her a long time ago. He reached out for her because he needed her to forgive Hisana, he needed her to forgive all the injustice he had done to her and he needed her to forgive his weakness. But Rukia offered no forgiveness, because there was nothing to forgive. She just quietly took his weakened hand in hers and held it firmly. Those hands begged him to live. Those hands held no resentment for those silent years. Those hands comforted him.

Rukia was a kind girl, just like her sister, just like his dear wife, Hisana. If only he could take that sadness away from her eyes. If only he could remove that reflection of his broken self that he saw in her…

"Captain Ku… chiki…" Abarai Renji stood at the door, his hand tensed up and paused in mid-action of knocking the door. His eyes shifted to settle on Rukia for a split second before looking away.

Rukia gave a sideward glance at Abarai, and then she stood up and bowed.

"I'll take my leave then, Nii-sama."

Byakuya simply nodded his head in tacit consent. As she walked past Abarai, he noticed that she barely acknowledged Abarai and he caught a suppressed flinch on Abarai's face. There was an obvious tension between these two friends today. Byakuya wondered if they had argued, but he decided to keep his concerns unvoiced, just as he always did. He took the documents from his vice-captain and wordlessly flipped through the documents, never inquiring anything beyond what was required.

* * *

**- YL -**

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**Post-Chapter Notes:  
**It is more on Byakuya than anything else. I couldn't help it. I really wanted to write Byakuya's take on everything that happened. I wanted to write about his distant tenderness to the ones he cared. Sometimes he is like a block of ice that never melts; you wonder what's on his mind. But I think he is just like Isshin (ooh, I LOVE ISSHIN!). Isshin hides his love through his loudness and Byakuya hides his love through his silence. Are they two just lovely people?

Though it's more on Byakuya's POV, I hope you guys like it nevertheless! Thank you all if you all didn't get too bored and managed to finish the chapter!

Oh, one thing. Is "reiraku" _performed_? I don't even know is it a noun or a whatever thing... And I hope I got the name for that hair stuff that Byakuya wears correct... 


	8. Words Unsaid

**Notes:** Thank you all who reads my fanfics! Here is Chapter 8!Cast for today:Ichigo, Rukia, Renji, Yuzu and Karin! I've never written Karin or Yuzu before, I hope they remained as in character as possible! I lent all my manga to a friend, so I have no more manga to analyze their character!

Anyway, I hope you guys will like it! Please Enjoy!

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**Words Unsaid**

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The sun was annoyingly glaring. The clouds were thin, too thin to block out that annoyingly glaring sun. And the sky was azure, such a perfect shade that it was just as annoyingly glaring as the sun. Everything just seemed way too cheerful, so cheerful that it was plain annoying, especially on a day like this. A day when he was basically bounded to his bed, his vessels pulsating with drugs that were making him drowsy, his head feeling like it was going to explode from the persistent throbbing and his shirt sticking uncomfortably against his cold, sweaty skin.

_Damn, I need to change my shirt. _

He sat up slowly and pushed the sheets away from his body. He sat at the edge of his bed, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Then he unsteadily walked over to dry himself and change into a new shirt. His actions were painfully lethargic for his muscles felt so weak and they ached with every movement he made. Feeling like some feeble old man, he staggered back to his bed and eased himself back to his lying position, once again staring out of the window, back to that blazing view.

_I seriously need to get some blinds…_

There was a soft rap on the door and Yuzu entered with a tray in hand. "Onii-chan, it's your lunch."

Ichigo wanted to say that he was not really interested, but his throat was so sore that he decided he should just keep quiet. Yuzu placed the food on his desk and went over to his side, wiping the sweat off his forehead and changing the ice pack. She took his temperature and her small brows furrowed as she saw that his fever was still high at 39 degrees.

"Well," Yuzu gave a small smile. "Your temperature's dropped a degree from this morning. Eat a little, won't you? You hadn't eaten anything since yesterday."

Yuzu hesitated as she stared down, appearing as if she needed all her concentration to clean the thermometer. "Karin and I both thought you had lost a lot of weight… since, I don't know… You're always kind of… " Yuzu placed back the thermometer in her pocket. "Maybe you should start bring extra helpings of food back to your room again… I know that last time I said you should stop bringing extra helpings of food because you'll grow fat… but…"

Yuzu stopped there, allowing all her unfinished sentences to be left hanging still. She reached over and pushed the window closed, thinking that the October wind was a little too strong and cold for him. Then she stopped and pushed the window slightly open again, leaving a tiny gap open. She had noticed that he never let his window to be fully closed, no matter the weather, time or day. It was a habit that he started having a few months back, though she could not exactly pinpoint when it began.

She turned and picked up his wet towel and shirt. "Remember to take your medicine after you eat your lunch." Yuzu stood at the door, hesitating once again, like she was struggling to find the right words to convey her thoughts to him. Then she just smiled and said simply, "I hope you'll feel better soon."

Somehow, the last sentence weighed heavily on him for he sensed that there were underlying meanings to what she said. Maybe he was just reading too much into her words and actions because he felt guilty that Yuzu had to stay at home to take care of him on a Saturday. Kids her age should be going over to her friend's home, playing in the park or doing something of that sort. They were not supposed to be staying at home to take care of a helpless _older _brother.

Helpless.

What a terrible word. But it was exactly what he was feeling now and what he had been feeling for a while. Helpless when she left. Helpless when he watched her leave. Helpless when he tried to save her. Helpless when he could not. Helpless when others had to come in to pick up what he could not finish. Helpless when _he_ left her behind.

Helpless.

He hated that word. He did not even thought that word would ever return into his vocabulary. He had sworn to leave that word behind, ever since his mother died. But for the past few months, as much as he wanted to pretend he was not, that was all that he felt.

Helpless…

…

Someone was removing the warmed ice pack on his forehead and wiping his forehead with a cool piece of cloth. He cracked his eyes open, trying to adjust to the light as the whole sky was engulfed in a fiery shade of gold, orange and red. It was nearly evening. He had not realized that he had fallen asleep.

"You forgot your medicine again." Karin said, frowning in a manner that looked more and more like the way he frowned. "You can be such a baby when you're sick."

Ichigo wanted to refute her but ended up nearly coughing his lungs out.

Karin waited for Ichigo to stop coughing before she took his temperature. "Stupid Dad's been doing his disappearing act for two days already. He closes his clinic right in the middle of the day and then runs off without an explanation. Geez, his son is dying and he disappears. Typical."

"I… not… dy…" He croaked out, barely, before his voice cracked at the last word "dying". He let out a loud exasperated sigh, never knowing, till now, how frustrating it was to be unable to do anything to shut his little sister up. He just shot his best scowl at Karin, who returned his scowl with a self-amused sneer as she viciously slapped the fresh ice pack onto his forehead. Ichigo cringed at the impact, now _really _wishing he was not so ill.

"Ichi-nii…" Ichigo noticed that her expression uncharacteristically softened as her eyes looked away and her sneer disappeared. "No matter what… Just take care, okay?"

Ichigo did not like how his sisters were worried about him. As an older brother, Ichigo was supposed to be the one worrying about how they were doing, supposed to be the one looking out for them, supposed to be the one who was taking care of them and protecting them.

Karin stood up. "Well, at least you're not so warm anymore. Dinner will be brought up for you soon. Maybe if you get well faster, Dad will come back and do his job properly. The neighbor's been asking where he is…" She gave a splenetic look as she closed the door behind her.

_Talking about job…_

Ichigo twisted his head to take a look at the shinigami permit that he hung at his bed. It had been so oddly quiet for the past two days he had practically forgotten all about it. He raised his arm to flick the permit. He watched how it attempted to swing back and forth but was obstructed as it hit against his metal bed frame. Then it finally trembled to a stop.

_The Hollows must be really considerate…_

He nearly laughed at the crazy thought, except he felt a little too ill to laugh. He would probably just start coughing if he tried to laugh.

_Well, there are a lot of other shinigami that has to eliminate Hollows, lots of other shinigami like Ru…_

_Rukia._

Sometimes, he could not believe how hard it was for him to just _think_ of her name.

_I'm such a weakling…_

_Ah… _He placed his hand on the ice pack, feeling the startling but strangely soothing iciness against his contrasting warm fingers. He shut his eyes.

_Whatever._

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- - -

-

"I need to…" Rukia said softly, struggling to push herself off Renji's back.

Renji paused, wondering what Rukia was going to say when his eyes widened in realization. He quickly released Rukia who leaned against the nearest tree and started to throw up. There was a slight hesitation, but he went over and patted her gently on the back as she continued to vomit uncontrollably.

After she was done, she started wobbling away but she quickly stumbled and Renji caught her by the arm just before she could fall flat onto her face.

"I feel sick…"

"Of course you'll feel sick after drinking so much," Renji chided as he crouched down and then lifted Rukia onto his back once again, which Rukia accepted without complaint. She hung her arms loosely on his shoulders and her head rested against the back of his shoulder blades. She was silent and Renji wondered if she had fallen asleep.

"Matsumoto-san can't hold her liquor well…"

Apparently, she was not asleep.

"Neither can you," Renji shot back.

"I'm small…" Rukia's voice was subdued and sounded slightly slurred. Though Rukia was not asleep, she did not exactly sound awake either.

"What kind of stupid reason is that? "I'm small"?" Renji commented, but there was no reply from Rukia.

Shunsui had called him to get Rukia as she was too inebriated to return home by herself. And calling Byakuya was definitely not an option. Shunsui could have sent her home himself if Rangiku had not also been drunk and was making a whole lot of fuss. Renji had arrived at the scene, surprised at the greatly unusual sight. There was a crazy Rangiku singing some nonsensical songs and knocking over things, a flustered Nanao who was trying to calm Rangiku down, a Kira who was probably tortured by Rangiku and was now out cold and drooling all over the floor, and an expectedly amused Shunsui who was just peacefully watching the scene.

But Renji was more surprised at the sight of a slightly delirious Rukia, as he had never seen Rukia drunk before. Tipsy, yes. But drunk? Due to her unwavering pride and obsessive need for self-control, she never allowed herself to drink over the limit, yet this time, she was pretty close to being totally wasted. She had already thrown up two times along the way, which fortunately, appeared to have cleared up her head a little. Just now was the third time.

He pushed Rukia a little higher up his back, shifting her carefully as he felt that she was slipping off him. It had been a long time since he had such an easy atmosphere with Rukia. They had been like complete strangers ever since that argument. Their conversations, if there were any, were only put up for show. Those exchanges were always short, polite and forced. Mostly, there were no conversations at all. Renji hated that.

"I'm sorry." His words were soft and inaudible.

"For what?" _Nearly _inaudible. She heard him.

_Isn't she supposed be drunk, asleep or something!_

"Nothing." Renji knew that apologies were not their style. Rukia should be smacking the daylights out of him. He should be yelling at Rukia. She should be smirking and making fun of him. Then Renji should be stomping off in frustration. And when they meet back the next time, it would be like nothing ever happened. That was how it was supposed to be.

But this fight was different. Rukia was no longer Rukia. No, Rukia was still Rukia; she was just a different Rukia. A Rukia he did not understand. And that was why he did not know what to do with himself and he did not know what to do with her.

"I'm sorry." Rukia's voice was muffled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into his back, trying to stifle the sobs that were coming through.

Renji kept silent, allowing her to cry. There was nothing he could do. He knew why she was crying but it did not mean he knew how to comfort her. He knew she was breaking but it did not mean he knew how to hold her together. He knew she was dying inside but it did not mean he knew how to save her.

_How does one fix a broken doll that refuses to be fixed?_

Could he even be sure of what she wanted? Was _she_ even sure of what _she_ wanted?

"Hey, let's go back to Rukongai Area 78 some time." His voice was even, deceptively light and cheerful. "Visit those shabby houses, walk those filthy streets, see some old friends… Revisit the past, ya know."

It took a while, but Rukia's sobs did gradually quieten. Her arms around his neck tightened slightly. "Okay…"

Renji smiled. They had finally left the anger of that day behind.

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**- YL –**

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**Post-Chapter Notes:**

Am I deteriorating in my writing? Or is it just my paranoia? O.o

Yup, poor Ichigo is sick… And Rukia is drunk. Oh yes, and body size does play a part in alcohol metabolism because equivalent doses of alcohol produce higher levels of concentration in smaller body sizes and also, women have a lower amount of alcohol metabolizing enzyme. :D

And it's 39 degree Celsius… in Fahrenheit it's about 102 degrees. Yup, he has HIGH fever. Poor Ichigo. I hope you realized what Isshin was doing disappearing for those 2 days when Ichigo was sick. :)

It's a month from my examinations! What am I doing here? I should be studying! Can't... keep... away... from... Bleach... and... all... things... related... - screams- (why can't I write asterisks?)


	9. Unforgotten Memories

**Ramblings: **Sorry for the long-overdued update! Please enjoy this chapter as much as I had enjoyed writing it!

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**Unforgotten Memories**

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Etched upon this old, familiar dirt path were the paradoxical memories of their idyllic existence and their hellish struggle for survival. The innocence of their childhood was marred by cruelty and death, yet they never understood what it meant and so their innocence remained. The world was their playground and the people were their foes. They laughed like the days were easy and kind despite the brutality that had been unfairly bestowed upon them. But they could laugh because they were children. Even in their darkest days, they were always able to look upon the sunset with hope in their eyes.

But that was a long time ago. Much too long ago.

Replaced were three graves forgotten, wrecked by the harshness of time; two children that had grown up a long time ago, the reality of life now written across their hard faces; memories that remained, the longing for those innocent laughter refusing to leave. And though a long time had passed and the stage might have changed, but the rules of the game was still the same. That same idyllic existence; that same hellish struggle for survival.

Or so it seems.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Nothing has changed." Her tone was subdued, nearly like she was struggling with a lie.

Perhaps it was a lie. It looked familiar; her hair fluttering in the wind as she stood at the edge, her eyes fierce and her face dignified, staring intently at the tall walls of the Seireitei. She was no longer that child that looked at the tall walls of Seireitei with hope. She was now the woman who had grown tired of the old rules of the game.

Indeed, it nearly seemed that nothing had changed, but things _have _changed. Time did not allow things to stay unchanging. Even as unchanging as Soul Society seemed to be, too much had changed and evolved. Because they had grown up and realized that life was not an idyllic existence. That life was not a hellish struggle for survival. Life was neither. Life was both. Life was just… life. Life was about choices. Choosing to live idyllically or choosing to live hellishly. Or sometimes, choosing to just live with their hearts cold, to hide the pain, to hide the laughter, to hide the tears, to hide the joy… To hide all those feelings that made them vulnerable. And those choices in life changed them.

"Come on." He turned to walk off.

"Where?"

"The human realm. I need to patrol."

"You don't do that." Her tone was accusatory, but it was not a refusal.

"Oh, shut up."

And the gate opened up and their feet landed onto an all too familiar ground, at least, for her. She had not returned to this area for a while, not since she was taken away that July night. She still remembered that night with startling clarity. His sword mercilessly broken, his blood pooling on the floor, his hand refusing to let go, his voice unrelenting in its obstinacy, his eyes rejecting her hurtful words… And finally, her vision blurring as she turned her back towards that dying man.

She walked along the familiar streets that she once thread and watched the people hurry along, dressed in warm jackets and wrapped up in woolen shawls, all of them oblivious to her existence. She went to the park where she used to visit and sat on one of the benches, observing the children who were playing baseball despite the cold weather. She stopped at the gate of the high school she had attended for a while, the grounds empty and quiet as it was a Sunday.

She was uncharacteristically quiet as she continued down the road; going down a path she had taken countless times after school ended. She knew where she was heading. She knew she could just tell him that she did not want to go and just turn away. But she did not. She just kept walking quietly behind him.

And then he finally stopped and she looked up, her eyes automatically turning to that familiar window that she had gone through countless of times. That familiar window that was still… open. She just stood there motionlessly, staring at that window, as if something might happen if she kept looking. Her eyes closed slowly, suddenly realizing that she was tired. That emotionally, she was ready to fall apart.

"Renji, let's go." Her voice was sullen. She wanted to believe she could forget. She could not. "He's not sensitive, but sooner or later, he'll sense my reiatsu if I stay on."

"Does that bother you?"

"No." Her reply was flat and hard.

But he had already seen the truth in her eyes.

"Not even a 'hello'?"

"It will serve no purpose." She turned sharply on her heels and strutted off, away from the house.

She was a liar. She just wanted to keep running away. She had been doing that all her life. Running from her feelings, running from her fears, running from her desires. Only when it all ended, did she realize what she always wanted. And still, she would keep running away. She was too afraid to look past the lies she had built up for herself.

The wounded look in her eyes, the slight tightening of her jaws and the bright glisten on her cheek; she probably believed that he would not notice, but he caught it all. He knew what he had to do.

-

- - -

-

His whole body froze and he stopped writing.

He remained on his seat, his senses perked up as he felt her reiatsu. Instinctively, he knew she was near. Very near.

He hated that somehow his senses had been tuned to pick up her spiritual aura. It probably had been on alert ever since he left her behind in Soul Society. But he did not want her to think that he was still waiting for her. She had moved on. She was probably just passing by, for some shinigami-related business. If she wanted, she could just take that few steps and hop into his room as usual, through the window he kept open habitually, despite the increasingly chilling winter wind.

But no. He felt her walk away. She did not come through that window. She did not stop for him.

It was ruthlessly cruel. He had decided to let go and learn to forget. He was determined to leave those memories of her behind. He was resolved on just concentrating on what he could do now. And all that resolution was shattered by that brief moment when she stood outside his house. That brief moment when they were not separated by two worlds. That brief moment when she unintentionally gave him hope and then stole it all away.

His eyes fixated on the equation that he had written on his paper, the muscles in his whole body tensed and the pen in his hand close to getting snapped. But calmly, he forcing himself to release the breath he did not know he was holding, stood up slowly, and walked over to the window. Kon continued to sleep soundly on his bed, totally unaware that she had just passed by. He stuck one of his hands into his pants pocket, hiding the slight tremor that refused to stop. With the other hand, he reached out, and closed the window.

-

- - -

-

Standing at the window, watching the night settle in, she missed the little black butterfly that kept her company a while back.

_I wonder… how is one supposed to give up?_

Leaning against the closet door and looking at the trails of water running down the window pane, he knew it was raining again.

_Does one just decides and chooses to move on?_

She slumped down onto the floor and her arms slowly reached up to hug herself.

_And then to move further and further away from what one's heart really wants?_

He sat down on his bed, hung his hands between his legs and tilted his head back.

_Then will one forget everything someday?_

_His large hands…_

_Her lingering scent…_

_His impetuous brown eyes…_

_Her soft dark hair…_

_His gruff voice…_

_Her tender touch…_

_Everything… everything… _

_Forgetting everything…_

_Everything…_

She walked over to her table, her fingers gently touching the flower that he had given her.

_Including the pain in one's heart?_

He turned behind, his fingers touching the unexpectedly icy cold metal of his window frame.

_Disappearing without a trace, like nothing was there to begin with?_

She opened her drawer and placed the dried flower carefully inside, before closing the drawer and locking it away.

_Disappearing without a trace…_

He moved his hand up the window latch, hesitated for a split second, before he pushed it down and locked his window.

_Like the rain…?_

Another sleepless night…

Another endless desire…

Another unforgotten memory…

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**- YL -

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**Post-Chapter Notes:  
**I hope you like this chapter! Took a long time for me to update… The next update might just be slow again cos I'm so slow and of course, because it's exams soon.

Anyway, the last section of this chapter, the ones where Rukia and Ichigo are thinking of each other concurrently, the italics are inspired from the anime _Honey and Clover_. I can't remember which episode. Fairly early in the anime I think where the girl (I think she's called Yamada) is thinking of an unrequited love. I remembered watching and immediately thought of IchiRuki and so I kept re-watching that section for like 4 times. And then I incorporated it into this last section of this chapter because it was so touching that I could not stop crying. (crybaby here…) I really hope it reads well.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed it and I hope to update soon!


	10. Choosing Her

**Notes:  
**I took only a week to update! Yippee! I took a relatively short time this time round! And I thought I could cheat myself into believing I can stay away for a whole month while I have my exams. But no… I'm still here, and faster than when I _wasn't_ having exams. But of course, when I wasn't having exams, I am much busier… I really need to start studying…

But anyway, Chapter 10 is up, so please read and enjoy!

**

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Choosing Her

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He could feel her everywhere. At the door of his house, he stood at the very spot he knew she had stopped for a while. Why had she stopped, he did not know. Perhaps, she felt a slight sense of nostalgia, but probably nothing more. He took the usual route to school and he could feel her reiatsu still lingering on the pavements, leading right up to the school gate. Then he paused at the gate, touching the words of the plastic school plate, which he knew she too, had stopped and touched the day before. What she was thinking as she touched the words, he could only guess. It was probably nostalgia again. After all, she spent a lot of time in school, posing as a normal high school student when she was in the human world.

School ended and he knew that he should just turn in that same route he came and return home as he always did routinely, but he could not help but follow her reiatsu. He walked past the park they often visited and as usual, the park was filled with the noises of children playing after school. Without stopping, he continued down some of the streets they often wandered around in when fighting Hollows, or when they had nothing to do and she insisted on exploring the area. On and on he retraced her footsteps, and finally, her reiatsu ended at the place where she was taken away. At the place where he had helplessly watched her leave. At the place where he had realized he could not protect her.

Having nowhere else to go to, he returned to the park and sat on one of the wooden benches and without thinking, started to stare at the empty spot beside him. She had sat and stopped at this place the longest. She had probably been watching some children play baseball in the field situated just on the other side of the metal fence. She often did that when she was not doing anything else.

It seemed silly at first and Ichigo was not too happy at having to waste his time doing such pointless things with her. But that was when he would remember how old she really was and that childhood for her was probably something too distant, and so, he would accompany her without complaints. And slowly, as he observed her, he noticed how the tiniest of smiles would tug at the corners of her lips, and how glimmers of subdued delectation would appear in her eyes, as she watched those unblemished children, with their beautifully innocent eyes, laugh guilelessly at everything, play their ball games with immense seriousness and squabble over every little inconsequential issue. He had once overheard her saying to herself, "Growing up here must be nice," and hearing that, he sensed that life must have been harsh on her as a child. So he decided never to voice his displeasure at dawdling the time away like this and learn to take pleasure in the little things in life like she did.

He could still remember the first time when he was training in the park with Rukia. He was hitting some pepper-filled balls that had Rukia's unsightly drawings scrawled all over it. She had sat on the table, her concentration all riveted on reading her horror manga aloud and not realizing for even one moment, that he was hitting the balls all wrong. That time, as they argued over her indecipherable drawings, all he wanted to do was to ungentlemanly beat the crap out of her to make her shut up because she was irritating the hell out of him. At that time, she was just like a character that came right out of a nightmare. Never would he had imagined that one day, he would be sitting at this same park alone, mentally picturing her being here and wishing that she was really sitting right beside him once again.

As if to complete the picture, Inoue appeared behind him. "Hello, Kurosaki-kun!"

Ichigo jumped from the sudden interruption, pulled back harshly from his reverie. The girl, with her long auburn hair and usual cheerful face, stood in front of him with a shopping bag in one hand. The scene was uncannily familiar in more ways than one.

He gave a small smile and forced a light-hearted tone to his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I went to buy the ingredients for dinner!" She enthusiastically opened up her grocery bag. "There's butter, red bean paste, onion, papaya and cheese!"

He kept the instinctive twitch away from his face. This girl was always strange, buying all sorts of strange food, acting in all sorts of strange ways, but over the time that he had grown to known her better, he had gotten used to her eccentric ways. Peculiar as she was, she was a girl with a surprising amount of grit and determination. And she had given him a lot of help and support over the past few months, a lot more than she needed to give, and a lot more than he could thank her for. Looking at her, no one would have guessed that she had no family, having lost the most important kin of hers in an accident three years ago. She could still bravely face the world head on with a smile on her face. Sometimes, Ichigo felt slightly envious of her strength, a strength that was different from his.

"So, what are you doing here, Kurosaki-kun?" She took a seat beside him.

He hesitated.

"Nothing," he said simply and clasped his hands between his knees, staring down.

Both of them fell silent. And after a short while, Inoue was first to break the stillness. "Is it really all right?"

Ichigo could not understand her question.

"Being like this all the time. It's like… you no longer seem to be the Kurosaki-kun that I know… you always look a little… down…" she elaborated. "Don't you think it has been long enough?"

"Huh?" He frowned.

"Kuchiki-san."

Ichigo raised his eyebrows slightly and then lowered it, giving a half-hearted smile. He was not really expecting her to talk about this and he did not really want to talk about it either. "It's fine, Inoue. I mean,_ I'm_ fine. I mean, why would I be down? I mean, there's noth…" Ichigo stopped himself, and then continued in a more controlled manner. "You heard Rukia right? She wanted to stay. And I do think that it's good for her that she is staying in…"

"But you didn't want her to stay, right?" Inoue cut in. She looked up; a strange unreadable emotion flickered through her eyes. "But because Kurosaki-kun is such a kind person, you'll never force her to leave Soul Society."

Ichigo stared back at her in surprise. "Inoue…"

"Kuchiki-san was here, wasn't she? Ishida-kun told me that she came yesterday…" Inoue's eyes lowered and she lightly squeezed her own hand. "I'm not really good at this, but if I sit here and sense really carefully, I could feel Kuchiki-san's reiatsu…"

Ichigo averted his eyes away from her.

"I remembered that I asked you if you thought it was right. If it was right to take her away from her family and friends," Inoue's voice held a slight tremble as she continued, "and in the end, you chose to let her stay because it was the right thing to do…" Inoue suddenly leaned in and rested both her hands on his knee, grasping it firmly, surprising Ichigo. "But I also don't think it is right for you to suffer like this!"

He twisted his head away from her a little more, acting like if he could not see her, he would somehow block out her words as well. But the tensed up muscles along his neck, was more than enough to let her know that he was hearing her and hearing her very well.

"Please, Kurosaki-kun…" She reached up, wanting to touch his face so that he would look at her. "I don't want to see you suffer like this… if you would just… let me…"

"Inoue," his tone was hard and impassive. "There is no right or wrong."

The words she was going to say died immediately upon hearing his cold voice. She retracted both her hands quickly, realizing that her actions were inappropriate and meaningless, and the things she wanted to tell him would never, and should never, be heard. In any case, she had long known how the result was going to be like. Right from the moment she followed him to Soul Society, to the moment she returned to the human realm with him, to the moment she found the courage to step forward and speak to him in this park today, she knew.

No. She knew much earlier than that.

Even right from the beginning when both Rukia and Ichigo were acting under the false pretense of being merely classmates and nothing more, Inoue had already guessed as much; she was always watching him so closely after all. So sometimes, unsettlingly, she would catch the way that they looked at each other, the way they briefly held each other's glances with a casual sort of intimacy, a casual intimacy that she had never seen him share with anyone else. She had always tried to convince herself that she was just overanalyzing things, but the fact was, she always knew; he had a place reserved for someone, and that someone, would never be her.

Resigned, she stood up and lowered her head a little as she pushed an imaginary strand of stray hair behind her ear. She made no move to turn to face him, because she could feel the sharp stinging at her nose, the rapid warming of her face and the growing lump in her throat. But she was not going to succumb to her emotions. At least, not yet.

"That's right, Kurosaki-kun. There is no right or wrong. I thought it was not right that you suffer like this. I thought this was not the Kurosaki-kun I knew. I thought that I could help you. But I guess… I guess there is no definite answer to anything." A silent sigh escaped unnoticed. "It's just a matter of choices, isn't it? The choices that you can control and the choices that you can't…"

Clutching her arms behind her back, she turned towards him jovially. "I'll be cheering for you Kurosaki-kun, no matter what you do!"

Grabbing her grocery bag hastily off the bench, she spun and ran up the stairs that lead to the main street, refusing to let Ichigo see the tears that were falling without control. She then abruptly stopped at the top of the stairs, because standing there was Tatsuki, and her eyes told Inoue that she had been there the whole time, had seen everything, and had a pretty accurate gauge of what had just happened.

"Orihime…"

"It's okay, Tatsuki," she said as she started to walk away, her stride stiff. "I'm fine. It's nothing. I was expecting that already."

"Orihime…"

She started to walk even faster and Tatsuki continued to keep up with her. "I never really harbored much hope anyway. Right from the start, I knew that he… didn't feel for me in that way… so… so it's okay…"

"Orihime…" Tatsuki grabbed her friend by the wrist, wanting her to stop, now that they were safely out Ichigo's sight.

"But… it hurts Tatsuki. It really, really, really hurts… I know that I cannot make him choose me when he has already chosen another. He's not that kind of man… and that's probably why I like him so much… but it still hurts Tatsuki… It hurts… Why does it have to hurt so much, Tatsuki? Why?"

Tatsuki quietly buried Inoue's head into her shoulders, stroking her lightly on the head as she cried.

"I feel like such a bad person, Tatsuki. Being like this. Feeling like this. The resentment towards the person whom he had chosen and the resentment towards the fact that the person couldn't be me… It's like, I'd waited for so long, I'd wanted it to be me so badly… and then… and then…"

Tatsuki shushed her gently. "I don't know why it has to hurt so much, but you're not a bad person, Orihime. It's okay to be angry, it's okay. Sometimes, it's okay to let it out, it's okay to hurt and it's okay to be a little angry. Because you're not a bad person, Orihime. You're not a bad person…"

Inoue was angry, ashamed and slightly bitter, but at least now, she could finally stop holding onto a dream that will never be realized, pick up the pieces and try to forget. She knew that the feelings would never disappear completely, would never disappear as if it was never there, would never disappear and leave not a trace behind… but she would learn to give up, move on and hopefully one day, find a new dream, which would be realized.

Inoue wiped the tears away, and though more tears replaced the ones that were gone, she smiled, albeit a sad one. She took her best friend's hand, grateful that she was the one sure thing in her life, the one sure thing she knew she could always depend on. "Let's go, Tatsuki."

Tatsuki nodded, and reassuringly holding Inoue's hand in hers, she led the way.

* * *

**- YL -**

**

* * *

**

**Post-Chapter Notes:  
**Inoue is a sweet sweet child. I can no longer let her hang around a man who may never learn to love her back. Well, at least not in my story. So... I hope she'll find happiness in someone else's arms.


	11. Encounter :: Doubt :: Revelation

**Notes:**

After 3 months of hibernation... I'm BACK!

I hope you guys have not given up on me!

And Happy Lunar New Year to all the Chinese out there! Which explains why I have time to finally just sit down and write since it's the new year's holiday.

And yes, due to recent changes in policy in FanfictionDOTnet that a kind soul has informed me of, I have removed all "Thanks to Reviewers" Section. I apologise.

Anyway, please please please, read and enjoy!

* * *

**Encounter :: Doubt :: Revelation**

* * *

"Yo."

"Renji." Neither Ichigo's face nor voice revealed any sign of surprise.

Renji's arms remained crossed as he continued leaning against the tree, secretly disappointed that Ichigo had failed to give a more energized response. In fact, he looked disinterested in Renji altogether.

"What ya doing here?" His voice was still that of lassitude.

"Rukia."

"Did something happen to her?"

A sudden spark of life.

"No," Renji said. "She's fine."

"Then what do you want?" The spark died instantly, as Ichigo's face immediately reverted back to impassivity. He turned away from Renji and kicked a stray stone out of the way as he continued walking.

Renji's face twitched, slightly put off by Ichigo's unresponsive behavior. But he reminded himself that he was not here to pick a fight with the kid. "Do you want her back?"

He froze momentarily, apparently caught off guard by his question. Renji smirked inwardly, pleased at the impact his question had on him, but was quickly annoyed when Ichigo stuck both his hands into his pockets and continued on his way in a blatant display of unconcern. But the stiffness in Ichigo's arms was evidence enough that it was just a poorly disguised act of nonchalance.

Renji grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him back by a rough jerk. "Do you want Rukia back?"

"Why would I?" There was a forced tone of mockery in his voice as he brushed Renji's hand away from his shoulder. However, the scorn was directed, not at Renji, but at himself. It was a painful bitterness that Renji could not stand seeing in this man.

"I was watching you today."

There was a flash of anger, but it quickly dissolved.

"Che. Whatever."

Avoidance.

"Do you want her to come back?" Renji was not a patient man and his patience was starting to wear thin.

"She doesn't want to come back." His voice was hard, nearly angry, but mostly sad. Renji would not claim to know him very well, but he knew him enough to know that the Kurosaki Ichigo he knew did not speak with such a fatalistic tone in his voice.

"I'm asking what _you_ want."

"Leave me alone."

Renji grabbed Ichigo by his collar, slamming him against the bark of the tree. "DO. YOU. WANT. HER. BACK!"

"Let go."

Renji hated that resigned look in his eyes. He wanted that annoying contempt, that unwavering determination, that unbridled craziness to come back into his eyes. Those eyes that Renji saw, those passionate eyes that swore to save Rukia even if it meant losing his own life. Somewhere along those few weeks, that fire in his eyes had totally vanished. He now barely resembled the shell of the person that Renji had lost so completely to.

"Do you…"

Suddenly, a punch connected with the sides of Renji's face and sent him staggering a few steps back. Renji grinned, brushing the blood away from the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

"You're losing your touch, Kurosaki."

"And look who's talking."

Renji continued grinning. Perhaps he was not talking to a zombie after all. "I'll ask again. Do you want Kuchiki Rukia to come back?"

"No." There was a slight hesitation in his voice.

"No? After all the shit you've gone through for her?" Renji was not about to let Ichigo off with just some kind of lousy act.

"I owe her."

"You owe her?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"It was the least I could do, to… protect her."

"Protection. That's all? A bloody obligation to protect her?"

"YES! STOP REPEATING WHAT I SAID! I owe her okay! I'm not going to let her die because of me! I'm not that huge a bastard! I had to… I had to protect her… that's all there is to it."

Renji scoffed. "You're a damn horrible liar, do you know that?"

"What the hell do you want?"

Renji grabbed Ichigo's shirt, pulling him in and closing the distance till Renji was practically yelling right into his face. "I just want the bloody truth from you! Do you want her back?"

"She doesn't want to come back." It was that same annoying fatalistic tone again.

"Do you want her back?" He repeated.

"She wants to stay in Soul Society."

"Stop telling me what _she _wants."

"SHE WANTS TO STAY!" Ichigo shoved him away. "Everything she has is over there! Byakuya's there. Her life's there. Her memories' there…"

"Shut up Kurosaki!" Renji knocked Ichigo to the ground and kneeling over him, he shook him violently by the collar. "What do you want? I'm asking what the hell YOU want, WHAT _YOU_ WANT!"

Ichigo threw his hand up, catching Renji by the jaw with the heel of his hand. And grabbing his belt simultaneously, Ichigo threw Renji off and pinned him firmly on the ground with a hand pressed against his neck, their positions now exchanged.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM!" With a growl of agitation, Ichigo released Renji and stood back up. "Stop asking me this kind of stupid questions! She's belongs there okay? Her life's there! She's happy there!"

"What if I tell you she's not?"

"WHAT!" Ichigo responded in apparent irritation, obviously not hearing what Renji had just said as he bent over to pick up his school bag.

"I said," Renji's voice was oddly quiet and it caught Ichigo's attention. "What if," He calmly got up and brushed his clothes clean, "I tell you she's not?"

"What?" Ichigo's voice softened and his frown deepened. It seemed that this time, he heard Renji fine. "She's not…"

"I'll be at Urahara's tonight." He knew that Ichigo understood what he meant. That was enough. And it was not even like he was particularly good with words anyway.

"But…"

"Bye…" Renji strutted off, waving the back of his hand to Ichigo, a deliberate refusal to answer him.

"And the rest is up to you now, Kurosaki," Renji said more to himself than to anyone else, as he listened to Ichigo walk off in the other direction. Now, he could only hope that Ichigo was a little more honest to his own feelings than that other pint-sized woman was, because in the end, there was only so much he could do for them.

He sighed.

Dealing with those two people was _way_ too draining.

-

- - -

-

"I'm home." Ichigo wearily took off his shoes and placed them at the shoe rack, neatly alongside the rest of his family's footwear.

"Welcome home!" Yuzu greeted him cheerily, popping her head out from the kitchen door. She briefly surveyed him with a tiny frown. "Onii-chan, your uniform's dirty. Did you get into a fight?"

Ichigo waved a dismissive hand which Yuzu had long learned to accept without question. As he watched Yuzu disappear back to the kitchen, he noticed that his idiotic father was once again enthusiastically changing his wife's portrait on the wall. It was a routine thing that his father did, replacing one flashy poster after another and after another and after another.

He hesitated, but he finally spoke. "Dad."

His father stopped, peering at Ichigo warily through the corner of his eyes and his lips curled downwards in an annoying look of suspicion. Ichigo's eye twitched involuntarily as he resisted the urge replace his pending question with a kick into his father's infuriating face.

"How was it…" A momentary hiatus. "…with Mom?"

Isshin smirked and a low, cackle-like sound escaped from him. "Ah, you're finally interested in our love story?"

"NO!" His eyes widened, afraid that his father was going to switch into his nonsensical babbling mode again, in which there would be no stopping him once he began. _More like interested in how you handled Mom's death…but… _It had been so many years and it just seemed wrong to dig up the past now.

Isshin bounced right into his hyperactive self and plastered himself to the poster and began yelling at the top of his whiney voice. "OH MASAKI! Our son's all concerned about Daddy! What should I tell him, Masaki? Should I tell him the time I caused a blackout in a departmental center? Or the time I set fire to your friend's house? Or the time…"

Ichigo rolled his eyes and shutting out his father's voice, he proceeded to head upstairs. He started to wonder what had possessed him to ask his father a question in such seriousness.

"You know, Ichigo…"

There was an unexpected change in tone and Ichigo stopped.

"All those years with her, my feet had never touched the ground."

There was such an affectionate tone to the way he spoke, and yet it held such ruefulness, such a deep sense of sadness that Ichigo would have never believed would come out from his own father's voice if he had not heard it himself. Slowly, he took two steps down back to the ground floor.

His father continued securing the poster on the wall carefully, pressing his fingers firmly along the sides of the picture to smooth out any creases. His fingers lingered at the corner of the poster, with a tender look in his eyes and an invisible smile on his face.At that moment, Ichigo saw the sides of his father that he had never before been allowed to see, or perhaps had just never stopped long enough to observe. It was the uncloaked vulnerability that he had never bared. It was the unnoticed depths of unwavering love for his wife. And it was the quiet mourning for a love long lost. Ichigo felt the pangs of guilt, partly the guilt for being so blind, but mostly for the part that all these pain was caused by him, even if his father had told him otherwise.

Six years. No, it was nearly six and a half years now. For six and a half years, his father had hidden his suffering by playing the fool.

And it took Ichigo six and a half years to realize that. Because he had chosen to forget, to ignore and to pretend.

Perhaps he was the real fool here.

"Do you miss Mom?"

"Everyday son, everyday…"

Such stark veracity. Unnerving in its simplicity yet exalting in its beauty.

Silence fell between the father and son.It was not the sort of uncomfortable silence in any way, but it was immensely heavy, as Ichigo watched how his fathercontinued to gaze at his late wife's picture quietly.

"Remember, Ichigo. Don't be wishy-washy. Sorrow's a pretty cool thing to shoulder, but you're still too young for it."

It was those words again, those words he had said so coolly on that rainy day, his back facing him, with a cigarette in his hand, in front of the grave of the woman he loved. Those strong words that put Ichigo's heart at ease in a strange way.

"Dad…" Whenever his father spoke to him the way a father probably should, he would never look at him in the eye. Ichigo used to believe that it was because his father blamed him a little but he finally understood. His father just wanted to hide that little bit of softness to himself, that little bit of sadness that he did not want others to see, that little bit of love that would never die.

"Dinner's at seven. Don't make me yell for you to come down."

Staring at the back of his father as he vanished into the kitchen, Ichigo became aware, consciously for the first time, how broad and how dependable his father's shoulders were. His father was the one who was carrying the burdens of the family, carrying the past that he could never change and carrying the unspoken sorrow that ran so deep. He shouldered it all.

Ichigo realized that he was really such a child at times.

Entering his room, Ichigo threw his bag against the wall and lay down on his bed, staring blankly into the ceiling of his unlit room. His lids closed, and suddenly, all he wanted to do for that moment, was to just cry like he was nine again.

But his eyes remained dry.

And his heart had never felt heavier.

* * *

**- YL -**

* * *

**Post-Chapter Notes:**

Sentimental Isshin here! I saw the change in poster in chapter 199, so I had to write it in. I wonder if sentimental Isshin would ever appear in the manga... I LOVE ISSHIN!


	12. Resolution

**Notes:**

It's been a while. Nearly six months I believe.

And the coolest thing is, it's Ichigo's birthday today! Didn't even realise that till I started to reading some Bleach fanfics earlier in the day. So Happy Birthday Ichigo, and let's separate his birthday with this chapter!

Ooh! And it's nearly, nearly, the one year anniversary of this story! (Just a day late for the anniversary, but it's okay right?)

Pls read and enjoy!

* * *

**Resolution**

* * *

Ichigo cursed as his feet slithered uncontrollably across the muddied surface. He stabbed his zanpakutou into the soft ground, cutting a long, deep crevasse as he skidded to a halt.

He took in a labored breath, a painfully chilling breath of stale pungent air which held the intolerable stench of putrid leaves, ordure and overnight trash that were left to rot in the freezing moist night. A police car went by with its piercing siren, its roof lights throwing flashes of blinding light upon his paling mien. His nose was raw. His ears were burning. And his sweat was cold.

There was an acrid taste of iron and salt in his dry mouth, and an annoying lump in his throat that he could not swallow. He roughly brushed the blood and dirt away from his eye, flinching as he rubbed against the gash on his face that was quickly going numb. He was a pitiful sight; hunched over with his stained kimono plastered against his damp skin, sweat and blood pooling onto the ground that he was struggling to continue standing on. His grasp around his sword tightened in unconcealed aggravation. Then, throwing all his strength into his aching arms, he brought his sword up into his usual stance.

The sword wavered slightly to the side.

"The sword's too heavy for the pathetic shinigami?" The Hollow's salamandrine tongue flickered slickly across its lips, accentuating its edacious nature.

Ichigo cursed again.

_Losing too much blood, _a distracted thought passed through his head, as he leaped to evade the Hollow's attack, in a manner that was much more sluggish than usual. Still with his growing frustration, he charged at the Hollow again, swinging his sword carelessly in one huge motion as he aimed for one of its many appendages. His blade connected with its limb, but little damage was done before the Hollow struck Ichigo with another of its tentacles and sent him flying into a tree. He heard a sickening crack and felt an excruciating explosion of pain upon impact. He collapsed onto the ground, his breaths short and shallow and his vision blurred.

_Definitely losing too much blood, _he thought as he struggled to get up, but his muscles trembled with every attempt, pain dominating over all the other commands that his brain was trying to make.

The Hollow cackled smugly and started talking again. But Ichigo did not hear any of its contemptuous speech, for all sounds was drowned out by the loud rushing of blood in his ears and a piercing ringing tone that just seemed to grow louder with every minute vibration of the air. All he knew was that he had to get up. He had to get up and shut that infuriating Hollow up. Permanently.

_BUT WHY THE BLOODY HELL CAN'T I GET UP!_

"Cos you don't want to."

It was an imposing voice that cut through harshly amongst all the noise, a voice he had not heard for a while.

Ichigo looked up, relief and surprise fighting for ascendancy in his head.

"O'san…"

"It started to rain yesterday, Ichigo," Zangetsu commented, his veiled eyes staring away, absently in thought.

"Huh?" Then he cringed, feeling a sharp pain in his ribs. Unsteadily, he pushed himself off the slippery surface, leaving a bloody handprint on the window pane, which was quickly washed away into diluted trails of crimson by the rain.

His eyes turned to focus on Ichigo. "You've brought it along with you."

Undisguised incomprehension traversed Ichigo's usual solemn visage.

"You brought the injuries from your physical world into this world," he explained.

His circumflex brows raised just the slightest, revealing his realization of the uniqueness of the situation, but nothing more. "O'san!" He called out, feeling his body throb with every word he spoke. Ichigo blinked and narrowed his eyes as the rain was getting into them. "I need to beat that Hollow!"

"It has been cloudy for a while. And yesterday, it started to rain."

"O'san!"

White electric pain hit his chest. He doubled over.

"Look carefully, Ichigo. Your inner world is slowly falling apart." Zangetsu leaped off the building he was on, kicking away some loose bricks in the process, and landed a small distance away from Ichigo. "When your heart is weakened, it gets cloudy. When your heart is saddened, it starts to rain. And you are wounded because you no longer trust the sword in your hands. It's not that you cannot get up Ichigo, it's just that you don't want to."

A shudder passed through him as the gravity of those words began to sink in. He sighed. "O'san…"

He stopped.

For he was staring at his dad, sitting on a couch with his arm relaxed around his beloved wife as they watched an old show on the television, a program Ichigo recalled watching when he was around five. It was a deeply nostalgic scene, as he watched how his dad roared with laughter quite suddenly and how his mom chuckled quietly in reply. She rested her head on her husband's shoulder, placing an elegant hand on his lap, with an open air of tenderness and grace in her every gesture.

Ichigo blinked back the unexpected tears that were beginning to form.

He missed her.

As he observed every single window, he became conscious of the fact that this was the past. His past. A past that was recorded indelibly in his heart in bricks and mortar, kept neatly in their little separate windows, in this world that he knew he had but never got to know. It displayed a life of family, friends, classmates, acquaintances and strangers. They were memories, some of which were forgotten and neglected, others that were remembered and held onto dearly, and a few which he had kept hidden and locked away.

And this was one of those memories that he wished he never had. There he was, a young boy lying in a pool of blood; blood that did not belong to him, but to the woman he loved more than the world itself. Even though he had always been able to see the spirits of the dead, a child his age would not understand what it really meant to die. And at that moment, as he held her hands that had gone strangely cold and limp, he understood. He understood that he would never see her smile, hear her voice or feel her warmth ever again, for she had died. And he was the murderer. He had killed his very own mother and stolen away the center of the universe, the center of the universe that his family had revolved around. For a long time – as he listened to his sisters crying quietly in their room and watched his dad sitting in occasional silence staring at his wife's picture – he felt responsible.

And so he worked diligently to keep his grades up so that he would never need his dad to worry about his school work. He got into lots of trouble outside of school, but he made sure to never bring any of those troubles back home. Everyday, he would voluntarily help any wandering souls, secretly wishing that if he helped enough souls, some higher power would allow him to see his mother again. He went to school, got into fights, had pointless conversations and made friends, pretending that there was nothing wrong in his life. But he always kept his distance, surrounding himself with an impregnable fortress of emotional withdrawal. Because he did not deserve affection, kindness or warmth. He wanted to punish himself, so that one day, he would be forgiven for stealing everything away from his family.

At the age of nine, he felt as if the weight of the whole world was on his shoulders.

But she came and took the weight away.

He had finally arrived at her window. It was tinted with a strange shade of indigo but was impeccable in its state. It was their first encounter; she stood in his room dressed in her black kimono, her katana strapped firmly by her waist, her eyes fierce and conceited.

There was an aristocratic allure to her arrogant stance.

That was his first impression of her.

And then there she was again, some days later in his room, lying belly down on the floor in her school uniform, quietly reading a manga that she had most probably "borrowed" from one of his sisters. She slowly flipped the pages of the manga, her left leg periodically rising and then falling back to cross at the ankles and her head constantly shifting as she moved from one page to the next. He could not see her face, but he could imagine the excitement that would flicker through her eyes as she silently mouthed the characters' conversations. After a while, she placed down the book and reached out for an unopened juice pack, which she struggled with for a while before she decided to give up. She got up and obtrusively positioned the juice pack right in his face, a silent demand that he opened it. He opened the pack, without complaint, as it had turned into more of a habit than a chore. And as he returned the drink to her, he thought that her wide eyes and imperceptible pout made her seem, deceptively, so much younger than her years.

There was a child-like quality in her despite her usual self-possessed conduct.

That was the Rukia he got to know.

And there were windows that showed her yelling, laughing, smirking, sulking, smiling, crying; a multitude of windows that were memories of Rukia, so many windows that filled his world, filling up the empty rooms of the buildings, filling up so much of his sixteen years. Although it was only a few weeks, but if every memory, every moment of her was stacked from end to end, it would reach the clouds, reach the moon, reach the stars.

It would reach eternity.

Ichigo heard footstep and he turned around slowly, meeting the eyes that hid behind the dark glasses.

"Grief cannot become your strength, Ichigo. You are choosing to give up."

His world used to be perfect; flawless skyscrapers and polished windows, reflecting nothing but the clouds against the azure sky. And while he was not taking notice, it had started to fall apart. The windows had cracked, the bricks had crumbled and it had begun to rain.

But for the first time, the veil of his seemingly perfect world had finally been lowered.

"Grief has clouded your mind, your thoughts and your heart. If you lose the courage, this world will soon fall apart. You are suffering, Ichigo."

_I am suffering… I think I'm starting to see that, Inoue…_

"And dishonesty will not make the pain go away."

He stopped at a cracked window that was rudimentarily covered in tape in a poor attempt to hold the window together. He kneeled down, his hands forming into tight fists as they pressed against the window, the force threatening to it break into a million little pieces.

The soft curves of her slender shoulders and neck held a subtle heartbreaking elegance against the sunset sky as she stood in front of him, watching him with a faltering gaze. There was a slight, nearly unnoticeable tremble in her lower lip as she spoke those words he never, not even for a split second, predicted she would say. And his eyes had shifted away, unable to reconcile his expectations with the reality that he was hearing. And he had tried to blink away that uncomfortable sensation that twisted violently within him, forcing those feelings away into his tightly clasped fist that was beginning to quiver. Then he looked up and smiled back firmly, a hollow extension of his acceptance of her decision.

Ichigo tightened his jaw, suddenly all too aware of his surroundings. The overcast sky, the disrepair of the buildings, the trails of rain running down the cracked window panes, the loud patter of the rain against glass… His world had fallen apart. And he thought that the rain had stopped a long time ago.

_I'm a horrible liar. I know that, Renji._

_Cos the rain had never stopped. _

_I just pretended it did._

"Don't be hesitant, Ichigo. Do what you need to do. Move forward."

_Dad…_

If it would not hurt so much to laugh, he would surely have laughed at himself. Those unexpected words that came from an unpredictable man, whose main purpose in life, seemed to be nothing other than to annoy his son every waking moment of his day. But it appeared that lunatics also had their occasional moments of wisdom. For those words were words that cut so deep each time they were spoken. And those words were words from a man he secretly and deeply respected.

"You sound like my dad. Well, somewhat like my dad."

Zangetsu smiled. This was the first time that Ichigo had ever seen him smile.

As Ichigo reached his final window of her, the clarity of the situation struck him harder than ever as he watched their last farewell. There was a suppressed air of melancholy as she stood there, a glimmer of tears as she brushed away a stray hair from her face and turned to look at him. The noble disposition seemed to have dissolved, giving her a vulnerability that made her so much closer to being a human, or possibly more accurately, to being a woman. She smiled at him, but the weight of her smile sat on an intricate balance that risked total devastation if tipped. And he knew that he would not tip it.

So he said, "Goodbye, Rukia."

Nothing more, nothing less.

But perhaps, the whole notion of the importance of keeping the state of equilibrium was seriously overstated. Because he had curiously felt more complete when his whole life had, because of her, went absurdly off tangent from all loci of rationality, causing his scales to tilt perilously close to the obscure aspects of insanity.

"Do you want to get up, Ichigo?" Zangetsu asked as he slowly walked towards him.

_Do what I have to do, Kurosaki Ichigo._

"Do you want to keep fighting, Ichigo?"

_Sorrow. It's not for me to shoulder. Not yet. Not now. _

"Do you want to keep protecting the people around you, Ichigo?"

_Protection… _

_When does protection becomes compassion? And when does compassion becomes affection? And when does affection… become so much, so much, so much more?_

Ichigo stared straight at Zangetsu, the usual adamant, fiery look returning into those pupils of his. He nodded affirmatively. Looking back, he finally understood that he had suffered long enough, had lied long enough and had been hesitant long enough.

"_What if I tell you she's not?"_

He did not need a window to remind him that those were Renji's words. And because of those words, he knew that he was not the only one suffering, lying and hesitating. It was time to stop.

"Then take my strength, together with yours, and fight. Find your courage, Ichigo. Find your courage and fight."

Willing strength into his limbs again, he got up wobbly onto his feet. He ignored the pain, ignored the blood, ignored all those things that made him weak.

He took a carefully controlled breath as he raised his trustworthy Zangetsu and steadied it in front of him, focusing on nothing but the battle that he was going to win. His spiritual power rose as his feet moved lithely, carrying him forward and shooting rapidly towards the Hollow. Driven only by the will and determination to fulfill the duties that he had assumed on his own will, with an almost animalistic instinct, he pushed himself off the ground and swung his sword vertically down, going right for its head. The Hollow tried to block off Ichigo with the arm that Ichigo had barely injured just now, but this time, the zanpakutou cut cleanly through it and continued successfully in its momentum to slice its abhorrent mask into half. The Hollow exploded into nothingness as Ichigo landed on his feet, stabbing his sword into the ground to hold himself up before he could topple over.

The fight ended, simply and cleanly as it was meant to be right from the beginning. Due to his own uncertainty, he had allowed it to become a prolonged, sanguinary battle that had no real purpose in its delay. But perhaps he should thank this Hollow, and a lot of other people for guiding him to see so clearly now. He had taken the long route, or rather a huge detour, but at least, he could see where he was heading right now.

He finally understood. Like a moth to a flickering flame, he would rather perish in that fiery heat, than to never reach that irresistibly blinding radiance.

Sometimes, there was just no turning back.

Breathing heavily, Ichigo staggered down the road with the sword as his crutch and headed towards that money-sucking, Sandal Hat's place. He knew that conniving exile was probably going to try to over-charge him again for healing his wounds, but it was not like Ichigo had much choice anyway.

And besides, he had an appointment to keep.

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**- YL -**

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**Post Chapter Notes:**

This chapter started out really short. It just got longer as I wrote and read. A bit of _Tuesdays with Morrie _incorporated into it because I read that paragraph in the book and it just fitted so well. I don't know what Ichigo's inner world's buildings are filled with. It was just an idea that struck me one fine night as I was falling asleep. Procrastination sometimes helps in developing a chapter I guess. (Excuses, excuses. I know)

Anyhow, I thank everyone who have read this and the chapter before this and the chapter before the chapter before and... yeah. Basically everyone who are so supportive of me. I love you all. I hope to get the next chapter out soon. But... the secret is, I haven't started writing it. Soooooooo...

But thank you! And I sincerely hope it had been an enjoyable read!


	13. Lily of the Valley

**Notes:**

Happy New Year! Pls read and enjoy!

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**Lily of the Valley**

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They had arrived at a part of Seireitei that Rukia had never been to before. Clearly not because she did not know if its existence, since it was one of the most prosperous and well-known area, but because it was a place filled with lavishness she have no right to indulge in. The paved footpath was lined with blossoming greenery and flanked by upscale shops that sold exquisite kimonos, delicate accessories and marvelously carved furniture; it was clearly a place for the wealthy – a place that was foreign and unreal for one like her. Born and raised in the forsaken streets of Rukongai, she was nothing but an undeserving, beggar child, who was picked up by a man from a Noble family. She knew of the whispers that went on behind her back. She knew of the contemptuous glances that were cast upon her. The thoughts were never voiced, for they fear the consequences, but she knew she would never be allowed to forget her real place in Seireitei. And neither did she want to forget.

When her brother stopped outside a florist, the familiarity of the purchasing procedure unveiled itself in Byakuya's tacit nod and the immediate unquestioned preparations that followed. The aged shop attendant had only paused long enough to discretely cast a curious look at her, before reverently bowing his thanks to both of them as he received the payment for the flowers.

It was a journey without conversation as she followed closely behind her brother, but the silence was not something that she was unused to. She had already learnt by now that his reticence was not of dissatisfaction, but of ease. It was his way of communication, for he was not a person compelled to fill the emptiness with mundane pleasantries. So even though she was not a quiet person by nature, with him, the quietness came easily without awkwardness.

They entered a room, in a secluded area of the family house, that was windowless and excessively large in its emptiness, and on the other end of the room, there was what appeared to be a door to a cabinet. Quite instinctively, as she watched him advance towards the end of the room, she knew that this was a shrine. Her sister's shrine. His wife's shrine. It was an immaculately clean room, clear of any unnecessity, a place where he saved his memories of her and kept his love for her in absolute perfection.

"She passed away here, in the early morning of spring." He revealed the altar behind the doors and stood in stillness in front of it, like he was having a silent conversation with a ghost of the past. Finally, he turned towards her, an unspoken offer for Rukia to approach the altar. She did not trust herself to speak, for she was still trying to absorb the reality of this magnanimous invitation of such a private man. So without a word, she proceeded to the altar, clapped her hands together respectfully and bowed.

It had been said that this was the room where her sister had spent her last days and that during those weeks of her pending death, never, not even once, had he left her side. The story of his devotion had been widespread throughout the family, but no one spoke of it and no one, but him, had ever set foot into the room after her decease.

He folded his hands into his olive kimono and quietly left the room, allowing Rukia to close the door after him, closing the door to the room that he had sealed up after his wife's death.

She followed him to a nearby stream that ran through the garden, where she watched him bend over and place those freshly bought flowers on a small pile of rocks that were positioned beside it. The gentleness in that simple gesture was infinitely loving even in its tiniest movement. He took a step back. "She used to sit there in the evening, staring at the stream, thinking of all the wrongs she did." There was a subtle pause that nearly went unnoticed. "And I would always stay by the window and watch her."

She looked up, seeing that familiar expression of disinterest, which she now understood was not apathy, but apprehension in the belief that any tittle of emotion would crack his careful mask of control and leave him crippled in the weight of his own grief. He stood there, unreadable, wanting to keep the sadness to himself. But she could tell, those dark eyes belonged to a man who saw too much and knew too much, but he would never breathe a word about it, for he was too kind.

And those dark eyes were now watching a dream from long ago, a dream that he would never be able recapture. It was a never-ending dream of loneliness.

And Rukia knew. That sometimes, he still saw her, sitting there and looking at the stream. And that sometimes, he still blamed himself for being unable to reach past her impenetrable wall of guilt to touch her, to rescue her from her boundless sorrow. He just kept punishing himself for the sins that he had not committed, believing that he could have done something to save her.

Rukia could not find the right words to speak, so quietly she kneeled by the stream, dipping her hand into the cold water, enjoying the feel of the chill against her fingers. Then unexplainably and unexpectedly - perhaps it was the sweet scent of the winter blossoms that told her - she understood. Her sister could not have been any happier before she departed, because she was loved. More deeply, truly and wholeheartedly, than anyone else could have ever loved her.

"Thank you, Nii-sama. For loving her."

Silence descended gently like a cool, comforting mist, and though nothing was said, she could feel a part of his grief being lifted and carried away by the stream. One day, she believed, he would be able to learn to forgive himself for those things that he had never done wrong.

Quietly, they watched a crimson pomegranate, which was blooming out of season, fall from the bare branches and slowly float away on the water's surface.

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She never considered herself to be a sentimental person, since emotions were nothing but unnecessary hindrances to her job. Although it was hard to admit, but she knew it was sentiments that brought her once again to this street. It was like she wanted to experience a life that was not hers and like she was trying to convince herself that indeed, she was still alive.

She had not planned to stop when she reached that particular flower shop, but she did, her attention captured by that little stalk of flower that failed to stand out amongst all those larger, blooming flowers. The florist saw her, and unlike the others who tended her with phony obsequiousness, he greeted her with genuine sincerity in his tone, almost as if she was an old acquaintance. "How can I help you, Kuchiki-sama?"

She nodded in acknowledgment. "Just 'Rukia' will do. How should I address you?"

"This is Yamada Kentaro at your service." He bowed his thin frame. He was an old man, his face riddled with lines of laughter and untold hardships.

When one live in Seireitei long enough, one would know that this was the way of life; docility and absolute respect for the authorities, in exchange for stability and prosperity. She did not respect this charade, but neither did she despise it. She had, after all, worked hard to get here, and had long become part of this huge performance. It felt like a false reality, but it was better than those years in the Rukongai, which was a time that she had left behind but would never forget.

"I don't think I've ever been here, at least not before this morning, Yamada-san."

He smiled kindly. "News spread fast around here, Rukia-sama."

"It seems it does." She wondered what else had been spread.

Perhaps he saw the thought that had struck her, for he continued, "All of us here are grateful that the Kuchiki family had not lost one of its valuable members."

She was surprised. Rukia's lips pressed together lightly, for she was still remorseful of the shame that she had caused the family, and the whole incident had seemed to have become a taboo topic. Everyone knew of it, but no one spoke of it, nearly like they believed if they pretended not to know of it, it would become something that had never happened.

He must have sensed her uneasiness, for he had paused, a long pause pregnant with discomfort. But going against the predictable and polite act of total avoidance, he surprisingly carried on with the topic of the Kuchiki House. "I've watched Kuchiki-dono grow up, from that handsome young boy to this great man that he has now become. It has been so many years, so many years that I have long lost count. He almost seemed like a son that I never had the fortune to have.

Kuchiki-dono was a very reticent child. In the beginning, I had actually found him quite strange." He chuckled lightly, seemingly remembering a fond memory. "Oh, whenever I sent new seasonal flowers over to the Kuchiki residence, he would be diligently studying in the room by the garden. My existence is usually unnoticed or ignored, as expected, but there are times when he would stop what he was doing and watch me. Those eyes followed me silently, and truth be told, it was quite unnerving because I am so aware of his penetrating stare. Ah… but Kuchiki-dono was so alluringly enigmatic then, and still is, today."

Rukia smiled. Her brother was such a man indeed. He was those who drank, but never got drunk. Who spoke, but never unnecessarily. Who fought, but never lost. And even if he did, he would lose beautifully. His every step appeared to have been meticulously planned and this impeccability made him almost invisible, and yet his presence commanded attention, respect and oftentimes, fear.

"Kuchiki-dono was very self-disciplined and conscientious; possibly the best the family had ever had. But I've never thought that he was a very happy man." Yamada stopped himself abruptly and bowed apologetically. "I hope I'm not being rude. I'm sure Kuchiki-dono is incredibly proud to be raised in a family of such respectable status…"

So few had ever been so uninhibited in discussing the Kuchiki family with her and she had grown afraid of asking, thinking that curiosity beyond what was necessary was forbidden in the family. But curiosity, unfortunately, was in her nature, so she asked him to continue.

Yamada obliged. "I think Kuchiki-dono was happiest when he met and married Hisana-sama. Hisana-sama was always in poor health, and Kuchiki-dono must have been aware that she did not have many years left. And yet going against all rules and conventions, disregarding all the objections raised, Kuchiki-dono fought so hard for her to be brought into the family…"

The man paused, a rueful expression passed over his face. "…that sparkle of bliss in his eyes. She had lived longer than the doctors had predicted, still… That bliss had left him much too soon."

Rukia lowered her eyes, trying to think of a time when she had seen happiness in her brother's eyes. She watched him for 50 years and yet she could not find an image. She picked up a stalk of familiar tiny white flowers from the stall.

He gestured at the flower in her hand. "This was one of Hisana-sama's favorites. She loved its fragrance and the meaning it carried. Rukia-sama, do you know that each flower actually sends a secret message to the receiver?"

She shook her head, not out of ignorance, but in hope of obtaining specific knowledge.

"Most flowers send messages of love. Red roses for 'I love you', pink carnations for saying that 'I'll never forget you', forget-me-nots to represent shared memories and orange blossoms for eternal love.

This one you're holding, Lily of the Valley, I personally find the message to be the most romantic of all. It is to thank the other for making your life complete. Kuchiki-dono had a whole garden of it planted for Hisana-sama while she was still alive." His shoulders dipped slightly. And quickly, like he was trying to hide his sadness, he busied his hands with the rearrangement of the flowers in their vases. The look on his face made it almost seemed like he was speaking of his very own son. "And from that garden, he picked out every single one of it for her funeral, to thank her for completing his life.

Perhaps it would be too painful a memory for him if the garden stayed, so he had asked for the plants to be removed. But even till this day, every single week without fail, on the day that Hisana-sama had passed away - which was a Friday morning - Kuchiki-dono would come down and pick up all of her favorite flowers."

Her heart was fluttering out of control inside her, yet her face remained fiercely impassive as she tried to deny the possibility. _He_ must not have known. It must have been some random plant that he had picked, for it was impossible, _absolutely _impossible, that he was sending her a message. Hoping that he did was just wishful thinking on her part and it was a thought she would rather not entertain. She simply twirled the stalk in her hand, not allowing her expression to betray any of her confusion inside.

"Would you like to have that flower in your hand?"

"Just one will do. How much is it?"

"Take it as a gift, Rukia-sama."

"I can't."

"Please do. It's really nothing."

Rukia found it hard to refuse his earnestness.

"Rukia-sama, I have heard so many stories and seen so many faces in the years that I have been here," he said softly, "So I do not wish to be rude when I say this, but your eyes hold such sorrow."

He smiled at her thoughtfully as he continued, "It saddens me greatly, for it is the same eyes that I see in Kuchiki-dono. A young lady like Rukia-sama should not have such sadness."

She fumbled for words, but realized she had none. Perhaps it was much too strange to hear all of these from an old man she barely knew. Finally, after a long silence, she whispered the only thing she could think of. "Thank you, Yamada-san."

"It was my absolute pleasure, Rukia-sama."

And as Rukia disappeared from view, she failed to see Byakuya, who had been listening all along, appear from the corner. His solemn eyes settled briefly on the vase of Lily of the Valleys and then he looked up to give a thankful nod towards Yamada.

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Indeed, she never did consider herself to be a sentimental person. She had no photos. She had no shrine. She had nothing. But as she placed the tiny bell-shaped flower next to the other fourteen stalks that she already had, she knew it was sentiments that made her fill her incomplete heart with this overwhelming fragrance of loneliness.

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**- YL -**

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Post-Chapter Notes:

How many times I had written and re-written this chapter. I'm glad it's finally out. I'll never be satisfied, for perfection is but an illusion. Still, I hope it had been good for all of you who had read it.

To all my faithful readers out there, I'll apologise for the long hiatus. Despite my long breaks between chapters, your support have been unwavering. Your constant reviews kept this story alive, so thank you so much.

Have a wonderful 2007 ahead.

And thank you once again for reading this story. My infinite gratitude to all of you. I hope all of you enjoyed it.

_- BOWS -_

_P/S This is going out to** Real-Kill: **Thank you for making me laugh with your review. I'm sorry it took me a month, but I hope you are still sane. _


	14. And It Begins

**Notes: **

It's been a long while. As this story comes almost to an end, I bring you a pretty long chapter, well, at least a pretty long chapter in comparison to all my other chapters.

There are a couple of Japanese words I used, which are not very important really, but I'll just give a brief description to avoid confusion. One is _douchuugi, _which is a thick coat worn over kimonos, for protection against cold weather. The other is _tokonoma, _which is just an alcove with a little platform for placing decorative items on, which is an architectural feature found in traditional Japanese rooms. I couldn't really think of any English word to replace it, so...

Anyway, please read and enjoy the work. Thanks!

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**And It Begins**

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He rapped on the door.

"Who is it?"

He held his breath, wondering if he should speak.

The quietness was long and his hand wanted to rise against the wooden frame again, but he curbed his impatience to knock. The torment that he had to go through before he was granted the permission to enter the mansion had definitely tested his sanity, and incredibly, he had made it all the way here without commotion. There was a certain point in time which he was convinced that beating everyone up would be a much quicker solution, but he understood he was here for petition and that by having his thoughts acknowledged and attaining official approval, it would help to avoid further uproar in the future. Not to mention that he was not dense enough to not realize that the odds of winning was against him.

So indeed, he had to congratulate himself for his steadfast endurance even in the face of defeat and he was determined to maintain his performance. Instead, he occupied himself by playing the words over and over in his head, a rehearsal on the things that he would tell her, the words that he would say to convince her while discreetly hiding the uncertainty that enveloped him.

The door slid open so suddenly, he wondered if the imaginary practice that was running through his mind had just evolved into a hallucination of her standing in front of him in a plum _douchuugi_ coat and smelling slightly of flowers. The thought was broken when the door slammed shut again, the tremor of the force vibrating through the floor.

He scratched his scrunched up eyebrow, trying to keep the irritation away from his voice as he said, "Oei."

He waited for a response. There was none.

"Hello?" He waited again.

One-thousand.

Two-thousand.

Three-thousand.

He growled, irritation growing into frustration. Sometimes, he swore that dealing with her had taken at least ten years off his life, and right now, she was just continuing on her mission to shorten his already shortened lifespan. He briefly entertained the idea of leaving and having her chase after him for a change.

That of course, he knew was absolutely improbable.

Beaten, he called out again in a raised voice. "HELLO?"

He kept knocking on the door incessantly in an evident attempt to annoy her. And apparently, it worked. For the door was slammed open again, with an infuriated Rukia glaring at him fiercely. His body was already prepared to retaliate, with the expectation of her swinging an attack at him, but strange enough, she simply stepped aside as an unwelcoming invitation for him to enter.

He paused long enough to re-evaluate the situation and after he decided it was not some kind of trap, he sauntered in with a loud 'Ah', like he was going to speak. Except that somehow, the word simply ended in a sigh. The things that he had prepared beforehand was slipping away much too quickly leaving his brain with nothing but a huge block of emptiness.

He panicked, and began to search for conversation, any sort of conversation really, but his mind remained as barren as the room he was in. Certainly, the room was barren and excessively large for the amount of furniture it held. Everything was bland and sterile. He could tell that this was the world she made herself live in. A futon. A cupboard. A chair by the window. A low table. And a couple of shelves that were quite unused. The walls were bare, except for a decorative calligraphy scroll which hung at the _tokonoma_, which he was more than positive, was not an art piece chosen by her, given her extremely poor taste in the aesthetics.

And surprising, in the midst of all that emptiness, were bursts of green and wafts of a fragrance that he recognized. Below that scroll, a row of vases lined the base of the alcove. A single stalk in every vase. Some of them fresh, some of them a few days old, but every stalk was a Lily of the Valley.

It was comforting, as he proceeded to the flowers and picked up a single stalk, fresh and in full bloom. He did not want to convince himself of what that might mean. He would not give himself false hope, like he had back then, when he had gone against her wishes and came to save her. These flowers promised nothing to him, but these flowers were all he had that connected the two of them together in the two different worlds they lived in, evidence that he had indeed, crossed over the boundary for her. That the two worlds that were meant to run parallel to each other had somehow met.

"My mother loved this flower."

His mother. He seldom spoke of her. It was like a memory that was too painful for him to recall, a sorrow too heavy for him to bear but too precious for him to discard. Which was why he surprised himself when he said those words, and even more surprising still, he continued on.

"During the springs and summers, our family used to have picnics on a hill up north, a place about an hour's drive away. And the place would be filled with so many flowers, red and yellow and purple and orange and white. It was amazing. There were so many colors in that field of green. And she would tell me the names of those flowers, and their meanings. Sometimes we would bring a book that has photographs of a huge list of flowers and we would hunt for different varieties each time. And then we'll bring them all home and put them in a big vase in the middle of the living room. Of course, that was a long time ago, and most of names I cannot remember, less to be said about their meanings. But…" He stopped for the waves of nostalgia were coming back and hitting him as strongly as it had a few days back. So he simply cleared his throat and maintained a detached look.

He knew. He did not want this to become just another memory, framed in broken glass and riddled with unspoken regret and remorse.

"But this one…" He pursed his lips slightly as he replaced the flower in its proper place. "It's called Lily of the Valley." He knew the meaning of the flower but he did not say what it was. Instead, he wanted to ask her, if she knew its meaning, though he was certain she did. He wanted to know if she would treasure what it represented and reciprocate him with the same flower, though that, he could not be certain of the answer. Yet those words did not come, for those were not words that he could easily say. So instead, he simply cocked his head in her direction, searching for something, anything, in her eyes.

Rukia met his eyes calmly, unwavering. She was pretty good at staring people down. Despite her looks, she was not a child. Her eyes were often hard and her lips often locked tightly in thought. If one looked at her long enough, one could tell – she was haunted. Haunted by pasts she could not change, haunted by fears she could not face and haunted by so many struggles that no one would speak of. She was the kind of person who would shoulder everything by herself, keep the sufferings to herself and stoically face the world with not a single tear in her eyes. But the sadness would unknowingly seep into the people around her and it would leave them speechless when they finally discover how weak they were in the face of that person in front of them.

She stood across him, pale, sullen and bony. He could see the blue veins running down her neck, across the thin skin of her slender clavicles, which rose and fell visibly with her shallow breathing. Her fingers touched the nook between the bones briefly, seemingly done without conscious effort, but it was a small gesture that betrayed her unease in this standstill between them. He found comfort in the realization that he was not the only one hesitant about that intricate balance he was now trying to tip. But at the same time, it was also painful to keep watching the veil of pretense around her that refused to fall away. That pretense was like a fog, created with excruciating effort, in order to obfuscate the truth that lay vulnerably exposed between them.

He looked away.

In that few moments of stillness, the distance between them seemed to have become irreconcilable. It was a space that had expanded beyond the boundaries of physics, till even the silence had became an echo that failed to reach either of them.

"You missed summer," he said unexpectedly. Once again, he threw himself off guard with his own words, but he understood where his own thoughts were coming from. The vivid memories he had of summer, was not the battles, the training, or all the big hoo-ha he caused. It was the night of the fireworks, where he stood among his friends, only to be all too aware that she was not there.

That summer that had just passed, was lonely.

Searching for a tangible source to hold him in reality, he pulled the chair towards him and straddled it, his arms folded across the top of the backrest. "You know, I've thought about this." His eyes shifted across the floor.

"About what?"

He felt a flash of anger, which came with his surprise at the callousness with which she had uttered the words.

She leaned against the wall on the far end of the room, her hands crossed. He said nothing, and she too, was silent. She just looked at him guardedly for a long time, and then she finally said, "What do you want with me, Ichigo?"

His name. The cord between them that had been tuned too tight had finally snapped, the broken metal springing back and scourging him in the face, drawing blood. His name was so mordantly spoken; he could almost feel the acidity of her voice corroding through him, slowly destroying him inside out. She was not asking for an answer. And he hated it, not just how she said his name, but he hated how the people around him spoke in riddles and obscurities, their speech always laden with ambiguity and indefinable complexities that he somehow had to decipher, understand and respond to.

"You…" He paused. "I…" He paused again. In frustration, he ran a hand through his tousled hair. "I just thought…"

He looked at her, searching for support, but all he got was a raise of her brow, like she had no idea what he was here for. It was derisive.

"UGH." Riddles and obscurities. Yes, he hated it, but that was the way he was trying to speak as well, without realizing how hard it was to counter ambiguity with ambiguity. He was trapped in that tangled web, weaved with the complexities of pride and self deceit, and suddenly, he felt so tired. So he stood up, the indignation of his defeat taking the better of him. "Forget it."

He wondered to himself again, why he had come to this place. He stood motionlessly, wanting his presence to expand and fill up the void between them, wanting their scents to permeate every cell of their bodies till they mingled and became one. He stood there, wanting an answer. But after a while, he realized that there was not going to be one. It was time for him to go.

She was standing by the door, and angrily, he brushed past her to leave the room. Their hands briefly grazed. And her warmth left a sting upon his skin.

No, it did not just sting. It burned.

-

- - -

-

As he walked past her and disappeared out of the door, his warmth left an acute pain on the tips of her fingers where his hand had touched. She had glanced at him as he left and regretted it because under the soft folds of his _kimono_, her eyes caught the scar on his torso, its color faint against his skin. With each second that passed, the memory of him seemed to burn itself deeper into her head with an ache that had slowly became her very own heartbeat. His fleeting scent of mandarin, his chiseled face, his disheveled hair, his soft stubble… It was a strangely well disguised unkemptness to his appearance that he never used to have.

Fearing that the warmth of his body heat would still be lingering on the seat of the chair, she settled onto the window sill instead, with her back pressed against the cedar frame, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her _douchuugi_ for warmth. When she had opened the door, there was that moment, when the dreams she had nurtured over the months had all coalesced. She had amused herself with the thought of him taking her away, back to the world where they would stand side by side in battle, the ebony of his slender sword a contrast against her snow colored one, together keeping a secret that the world would never learn of. They would go to school, and she, just sitting a few steps away, would watch him nod off occasionally due to the late nights, while valiantly trying to scribble notes down in his half-awake state of mind. They would argue every now and then, she would doodle on his books and make him mad, but still he would be beside her, patiently helping out with schoolwork that she had never dealt with before.

And she had even allowed her mind to go beyond work and school, where she had imagined Ichigo and herself dressed in fanciful, traditional Japanese summer clothes, walking along the river and watching fireworks explode into a rainbow of colors against the midnight sky. And a few years from now, they would be sitting under the cherry blossoms in the cool winds of spring, enjoying sweet wine and pastries. Of course, she had never allowed herself to look beyond that. Where would they be ten years from now? Fifteen? Twenty? It was a future she could not see. A future she understood she could not see together with him.

A tiny hell butterfly fluttered by her ears and stopped to rest near her. She smiled and wondered whether it was the flowers' scent that was attracting the hell butterflies to her room. She enjoyed having them flurry around the room, their tiny wings working fervently before they settle down for a short repose. Watching them helped keep away her wandering thoughts, especially on such days where she was had no job assigned and could find little to do to pass her time.

However, the quiet accompaniment was lost too quickly. For Ichigo quite suddenly returned and barged into her room, slamming the door wide open to announce his arrival, startling away the tiny hell butterfly. She wondered if she should be annoyed, amused or gratified.

"You're just playing with me, aren't you?" His effort to not yell was obvious.

Rukia asked blandly, "What?"

"You knew, didn't you?"

She repeated herself, perplexed. "WHAT?"

"You knew I was coming, you knew all about the flower. You knew about the things I was planning to say!"

It was a comical scene, how he was practically panting with his valiant effort to keep his voice volume low while there was a vein pulsating visibly near his left eye. And for a brief moment, she actually started to evaluate the possibility of her door getting damaged if he did not release his tightening grip on the door soon. Realizing her thoughts had drifted, she turned her focus back to what he was saying. Perhaps it was for her amusement, but quite calmly, she replied, "For your information, _Kurosaki-san_, if by any chance you are not aware, I do not actually possess any kind of psychic power."

He growled at her satirical reaction. "You conniving little…"

She sighed and wondered how many times she had to reiterate herself to get her point across. "Seriously, I have absolutely no idea what you are trying to accuse me of, Ichigo."

"Oh yeah, then why did Byakuya drag me into his damn office and torture me for hell knows how long and drill me repetitively with some bloody questions over and over and over and over and over again!"

"Nii-sama?"

"YES! Your _dear_ _Nii-sama!_"

She was fairly surprised that her brother had decided to get himself involved in such matters. She stared at Ichigo long and hard, who was glowering back at her with not merely annoyance, but also with anticipation for an answer to a question he had not yet asked. But it did not exactly take a genius to figure out what was the purpose of his journey to Soul Society this time. "I'm not leaving, Ichigo. It doesn't matter what has been said between you and Nii-sama, but I'm not leaving."

"You're so gonna leave this shit hole! And I am NOT going to sit through another lecture with Byakuya or attempt to go through another fight with his stupid something-sakura or whatever that is he has up his sleeves!" Ichigo exploded irately, the volume of his voice apparently no longer a priority on his list.

Seeing his outburst, it brought her a mysterious sense of happiness she could not accurately place her finger on. She pondered for a while, leaving Ichigo to seethe while she did so. And then she finally realized what it was. She missed it. She missed that normal Ichigo she knew.

Ichigo looked absolutely pissed, which was good news. He was not that wishy-washy person in her room just now, who looked like he was more eager to run away from her than anything else. He was back, that normal Ichigo, who got angry at her, yelled at her and refused to back down because of his stubborn nature. He was the normal Ichigo who would not smile at her with that terrible feigned smile, where there would always be that slight bit of tension visible at the corners of his mouth and in the arch of his brows. There would be no radiant, symmetrical smile of innocence on his face, which was an act that he would put up when he was trying to place away the words that he could not say. When she had told him she was staying, he had smiled at her, but that was a smile that pretended to forgive her when he actually hated her for saying the words she did. She could still remember how she had detested that smile.

"I'm not leaving," she said at last.

"You are!"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not."

"YOU ARE!"

"I'm not!"

"YOU ARE!!!"

"I said! I'm…" He was beginning to get on her nerves, and she was unfortunately involuntarily getting pulled into this juvenile argument. She crossed her legs at the knees with deliberate slowness in order to gather back her composure. "Ichigo, I don't really care what Nii-sama does to you. So you should just leave before he does do something to you, and also so that you can stop wasting my time engaging in such a meaningless conversation with you."

A curse escaped his lips as he fumbled to find something to say.

"Go back, Ichigo. You don't need me anymore."

"It's not about needing…"

"Of course," Rukia rolled her eyes. "You have your oh-so-powerful _Bankai_. Even _I_ don't have some showy oh-so-powerful _Bankai_."

Ichigo knew she was making fun of him and he sounded slightly frustrated. "You know that's not what I mean."

"Yeah? Then what do you mean, Ichigo? Cos I sure don't seem to have any other purpose other then to_ BORE_ the hell out of you!"

"What?"

"WHAT?" Rukia gestured her hands in agitation, the innocent look that Ichigo was giving her just serving to anger her further. "Don't 'what' me, mister. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

"THAT NIGHT!" She threw up her hands in the air madly. "That night! THAT NIGHT! That night you did a whole load of nothing and then you FELL ASLEEP!"

It took a second, a second too long, before realization dawned on Ichigo's face. She could almost see the gears of his brain working at its hardest to figure out an appropriate response. "I… you know… it wasn't right…"

She scoffed at his weak comeback.

"I didn't want to… you know…" He cleared his throat.

"No, I don't know." She responded brusquely. "If you were that uninterested, you should have just dropped your Mr. Nice Guy act and straight-out rejected me! That would have been a lot less…"

"I didn't want to reject you!" He cut in and then paused. His brows were scrunching up tighter together. "And I was not trying to be Mr. Nice Guy by not… I just… it just wasn't… you know, I couldn't… I'm just…"

"Of course, I totally understand." She could not retract the sarcasm in her voice.

Which, Ichigo caught perfectly. "Now, you're not listening…"

"My hearing is perfectly fine. I totally understand that you don't want me in _that way._ It's absolutely, entirely, extremely understandable…"

"No… that's not what I meant…"

"…so disdainful of me to think that…" Rukia rambled on in her mocking tone and began to pace back and forth, unwilling to hear any sort of explanation. She knew this should not have become a topic for argument, but somehow as the conversation had continued, the angrier she had gotten about things of minor importance. Although this was not exactly something she would consider being of minor importance, since she was quite humiliated that things had turned out the way it did. But she had forced all of it to the back of her mind and swore to herself to never speak of it ever again. But somehow, this had conveniently placed itself in the number one spot of the things she wanted to argue about.

"Rukia…"

"Ugh!" She glared at him. "THEN WHAT? YOU DID NOTHING. _NOTHING! _WHAT ARE YOU? IMPOTENT?!!"

"IT'S NOT LIKE I'M EXPERIENCED!"

Rukia stared at him wide-eyed, his face a shade of red so deep that she was sure she had never seen it before. His look was so complicated, she could not even decide whether he was insulted for having his manhood questioned or embarrassed for having said such a careless thing.

And then, she started to laugh. She started to laugh so hard, she could not stop. She laughed till the shade of red from his face had paled, and was replaced with confusion. And still she kept laughing, till there were tears in her eyes and she had basically collapsed onto the floor on all fours, with her body leaning against the platform of the alcove for support.

She had no idea how long she had laughed, but when the paroxysm of laughter finally subsided, his look had totally soured. He was still trying to hide behind his façade of a man, but the look of annoyance accented by that almost pout brought out the immaturity that he had yet to get rid of. Ichigo was always acting all grown up that sometimes she forgot that he was so young, so young that he was practically only a child. When one lived in Soul Society for so long, age was of so little significance that it was no longer something worth taking notice of. Age was just a passing of time that stretched into infinity, an infinity that would end whenever one's life would.

"Fifteen," she sighed, exhausted. "I can't even remember what it's like to be fifteen."

"I'm sixteen," he corrected defensively.

"When did that happen?" She asked, her attitude slightly teasing.

"When you were still there."

There was a grave quality to his voice that snapped her back to their current situation, and those words possessed a strange tone she had difficulty deciphering. It was like an accusation, that held shadows of wistfulness, anger, sadness, guilt, all of which did not seem to be directed at her.

She wondered how birthdays were celebrated in that world where he was from. In her mind, she had always imagined that it would be with cakes, presents and the people they loved. She would have loved to see that, to immerse herself in that spirit of festivity that she wished she had more of.

And then she knew. "July. July 15th."

"Huh?" He looked surprised.

"July 15th, wasn't it?"

Indeed, she now recalled the oddity of that particular day. The Kurosaki family was not traditional in a lot of ways, but that morning, he had burned incense sticks for his mother. Not just him, but his whole family had. She remembered that that night's dinner took much longer and was more sumptuous than what they typically had. She even remembered seeing him slip a card into his drawer before he sat down to prepare for his final end-of-term test paper. It was later than usual when he brought down her tray to wash, and when he did not return after a long time, she had snuck downstairs. And she saw him, sitting cross-legged on the dining table, staring at the poster of his late mother solemnly, with three joss sticks burning in the censer.

Rukia had simply retreated and not asked him anything then, because she was afraid to dig out some painful past he would rather not talk about, which was something she had done tactlessly before. Even now as she watched him, slightly older than she remembered him to be, she wondered how much unshed tears he had carried for the sorrow that he bore alone.

There was still so much she wanted to know about him, so much she wanted to explore with him, so much she wanted to show him. And those desires frightened her to a point where she felt immobilized.

He approached her, the embarrassment long gone from his face.

"What?" Rukia finally asked.

"You know what." The softness in his eyes was something she could not be certain she had seen before.

She looked away. "This is the only way I know how to live my life. This is the way that it's always been and this is the way it's always going to be. I'm a Shinigami. I am a Shinigami, born and raised in Soul Society. That's all that I am." She stopped, her eyes settling on the rows of tiny bell-shaped flowers that looked so delicate in their thin stems. Just looking at the flowers, she could remember how her fingers would often run across the soft white petals, and how the sweetness of the scent would bleed into her finger tips and flood every inch of her till she felt she could die from suffocation.

When did she begin to have dreams of a life beyond being a Shinigami, beyond Gotei 13 and even beyond Soul Society? When had she learnt to dream again? She thought she had forgotten how, for dreaming of the impossible was too painful. But now she dreamed again. And it was painful. "I can't, Ichigo. I really can't."

She blinked repeatedly, and started revising the longest _kidou _recitation she knew in her head, in an attempt to keep the needless emotions away. Friendship, companionship, love… she had told herself before, those were nothing but troublesome things that tied her down to a world she did not belong. Those were nothing but troublesome things that brought her saddening emotions. She repeated the recitation six times with agonizing slowness before she said, "Just leave, Ichigo. Just go back and pretend you never came. It's better this way."

She wanted to tell herself to forget about tomorrow, to forget about the day after, the month after, the year after. She wanted to tell herself to just live for the present, to live for this very moment that life had led her to. But she was a coward. She was too frightened to take the first step. She did not have the courage to just believe that perhaps, it would all work out.

"I'm not going to commit the same mistake twice."

Ichigo's words surprised her, and her eyes rose to meet his. And it became a staring competition. It was like a children's game, in which two people would hold each other's gaze for the longest time possible, and the first person to blink would be the loser. She was afraid, terrified even, to be the first to blink. She could not afford to lose at this point in time, not after what she had put both of them through, and not when she could so clearly see that there was not a path in front of them that could lead to a future. She was certain, if she loses, she would shatter.

Eventually, he was the one who blinked.

But no relief came. It was only a hollowness in her that she had not anticipated. She did not speak, and simply watched him blinked once, twice, and three times, before he took a deep breath and stood up straighter. She could see it distinctly; there was a sense of purpose not just in the way he held himself, but also in the way he looked at her.

He stretched out his hand towards her.

"Rukia," he said, "Let's go home."

The hollowness dissolved.

* * *

**- YL -**

* * *

**Post Chapter Notes: **

Why would Rukia think 15th July is Ichigo's birthday? Well, there are practices in which on a child's birthday, he/she would give thanks to his/her parents for the gift of life. It's not exactly a tradition, but there are such practices.

Thank you everyone for your continual support. Yes, there'll be a final chapter coming up soon. So please look forward to it. Thank you very much!

- bows -


	15. Epilogue

_"And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation." __- Kahlil Gibran_

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

Everything was the same as it had been the day before. The chair with its backrest placed against the wall. The futon neatly folded and stored away in the closet. And through the window, the branches of the trees were losing their leaves and blanketing the ground in shades of red and brown and orange and yellow. In a few weeks, the branches shall be totally bare, and thick coats of snow would cover the naked wood and fallen leaves, and the world would become bleached in a soft shade of white. And then in a few weeks after snow has descended and gone away, the landscape would slowly change with the blooming of the plum and peach blossoms, which would then wilt into cherry blossoms.

In a few weeks, lives could change.

It was strange that decades ago, she had stood in the slums of Rukongai and stared at the walls of Seireitei with intense hope, thinking that the world behind those walls would be her escape from the hell she was in. But now, decades later, as she stood within the walls of Seireitei, she realized she had simply exchanged one hell for another. Perhaps she was too insatiable, perhaps her desires were too numerous and too great, but she was empty, and had been empty all along. Because there was nothing for her in Rukongai. Because there was nothing for her in Seireitei. And because she had no other place to look forward to, to run away to.

For all those years that she had lived here, she had been exceptionally sparing with the things she had bought for herself. Her room was always empty, undecorated and distant, like she had never lived here at all. Perhaps it was always her pride that made her take less than she ever needed. Not simply the pride from being a Kuchiki, but pride from being a child born of the Rukongai. And her pride made her distanced herself, so for as many times as she had seen the room, sat in the chair and slept in the bed, none of it was ever hers. Everything was impersonal. Her job was impersonal. Her relationships were impersonal. Her real self had drifted away and became a person that had nothing to do with her life.

All these years, it almost seemed that she had been waiting, patiently waiting, for her life to start all over again, in a place far away from here.

Perhaps the most personal aspect of the room was the damage to the wall. The broken chair had been replaced, but the wall she had left it as it was. She stared at the indentations on the wall, which a while ago, was a flaw that had nagged at her fear to chase after the things she wanted. But now it was a mark of a friendship she was grateful for. This mark was created by a best friend, whom despite his crude words and brash attitude, remained a best friend who stood by her and understood the things that she needed and wanted. In this world, which to her was nothing more than a world of perpetual solitude, he was the realest thing she ever had. Everything that he had given her shall become memories carved into the deepest recesses of her mind, to remind her of the things she had and will have because she was moving now.

She wondered what would become of the room. It would probably be preserved, and shall remain untouched in the years before the day, when she will finally return and reclaim it, and finally make it hers.

Already in her gigai, she took out the bag from the cupboard. The dress that she had worn that day had been washed and neatly folded in it. She had learnt, from the whispers of the servants of the family, that it was her brother who had kept it for her. She took it out and dressed herself. She patted the dress neatly into place, the thin cotton of the summer dress resting lightly against her skin, giving her little warmth in the cold weather. She pulled on an additional trench coat that had been brought over for her, from across the gate of the other world. She closed the buttons and the coat fitted snuggly on her small frame. Unlike the dress, the coat was new, the size carefully chosen and the color was one of her favorite shades of yellow. And then she wrapped a woolen shawl around her neck. It was a stunning red, almost glaring, but she liked how it contrasted with her fair skin, her dark hair and her cheeks that were pink from the icy wind. Her legs were covered with knee-length woolen socks and she slipped her feet into the soft canvas shoes she had worn the day she left.

The weeks had dragged on and disappeared. It had been summer when she left. It was almost winter now, or perhaps it already was winter, it was hard to tell. How she had counted the hours, the days, the weeks, the months, when she would run away and fade from this world. She waited years to escape from the slums. She waited years to get admittance into the shinigami academy. She waited years to be recognized for her skills. She waited years to gain acknowledgement from her brother. And then suddenly in a few weeks, her whole world had changed. Just because of a few weeks, she was willing to discard more than a century of her past behind.

Indeed, life could change in a few weeks. And briefly, she wondered, in those few weeks, what had changed him?

"Are you ready?" His voice was gruff and impatient.

She brushed her hair neatly into place, picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulders. It did not matter what had changed in a few weeks. What mattered was that, she had.

-

- - -

-

There were fresh flowers by the stream and quietly she laid a stalk of Lily of the Valley beside them. She knelt down, and in silence, she asked for her sister's blessings. And finally, she released the rest of the flowers she had removed from her room into the water.

She watched them float downstream till they no longer could be seen. Then she stood up and turned in his direction.

"Let's go."

-

- - -

-

"Leave." His tone was not of anger, not of condescension, not of supremacy. It was a permission of freedom, trust and perhaps most surprising of all, reluctance.

"Nii-sama," she said quietly, her eyes shifting from her shoes to his shoes, up to the slender sword strapped to his waist, and further up to his neck, his chin, his nose and finally his eyes. Those eyes had not only lost the hardness that she was used to seeing, but they were looking straight at her with affections she thought he would never show her. She understood now, the courage it had taken for him to love Hisana, even when he knew the future he could share with her would be short-lived. And quite unexpectedly, even to herself, she took his hand. His hand was warm even in the cold air. "Thank you."

Months ago, when she had held that hand after the battles were over, his hand had not held her back. But this time, his fingers did not hesitate to tighten around her hands. "Leave."

And he released her. When she turned to go, he murmured something else, so softly like it was not meant to be heard by anyone but him. But she heard it well.

"Be happy," he had said.

-

- - -

-

Renji had not come personally to say goodbye.

But she knew there was no need for him to come.

She would see him soon enough. Through all the years they had been friends, he had never been disinterested enough to stay out of her business and never been smart enough to pretend he did not care about whether she left or stayed, lived or died. Her brother might have been the one who ordered for her possessions to be washed and kept, but it had been Renji who had personally left the bag in her cupboard the day before her arranged departure. That was evidence enough that he was too nosy for his own good.

So she was certain, she would see him soon enough.

-

- - -

-

She ran her fingers over the scars on his torso. The scars were smooth, pale and less noticeable. It occurred to her suddenly that the scars should no longer be there. She had seen how Inoue's strange powers worked, how they mend all things back to a state of perfection, so the scars should have disappeared. So she told him that she thought it was strange it was still there.

And he said, "Perhaps, I did not want it to go away."

She watched him, so closely that she could smell the scent of mandarin on his skin and feel her own breath against his neck. Her finger tugged playfully at his lower lip. "Why? So that you can look really badass?"

He humphed. "I don't know. Maybe as a reminder," his eyes were closed as he buried a hand into her hair and continued speaking, "of how I lost you."

She wondered if the words were premeditated, for they sounded clichéd and corny. But clichés and corniness was not his style. And neither was premeditation. So with no rebuttal, her hand ran down the length of his neck and quietly flowered upon his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the rhythm of his heart over the layers of muscles and bones. And she rested her head against him, listening to the steady sound, knowing that the truth had just slipped out, without him really meaning to.

-

- - -

-

They weaved through the crowd of students mingling at the school gate, bidding their goodbyes on the last day of school before the term break. Autumn had already faded away into winter; it was barely four but the sun was already dipping close to the horizon. They walked amongst the rise and fall of conversations, laughter and giggles, jokes and taunts. They simply moved, never touched, but an invisible string held them no further than an arm's length away, and together they headed in a direction that somehow they both knew.

Half the sun had already sunk by the time they finally arrived at the cliff that overlooked this small town called Karakura. As she stood there and took in the view, she became conscious of how she missed the strangest things. Like the dusty feel of chalk and dirt on the desk, or the smell of exhaust in the air as a car rushed past, or the piercing screams of children as they ran around in the playground. But it was true. She missed the unruliness of it all.

Oftentimes she had asked herself, when she began to grow so attached to the things of this world. But she understood that sometimes, there was not always a clear line separating the beginning and the end. Just as autumn fades into winter and winter blooms into spring, people simply get caught up in it all, only realizing quite suddenly that a season had passed and a new one had begun.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, remembering the feel of his soft hair that was almost the same shade of golden as the setting sun in the distance. Even with that perpetual scowl on his face, she could tell that it was actually a look of content.

She said something then and he smiled. A smile that was not symmetrical. A smile that was slightly crooked with an almost imperceptible bashfulness on his face. That was the smile she loved. It was a real smile that would appear like a blossom in the midst of snow.

The golden was slowly fading into the deep indigo of the night that shall follow.

He turned to leave, without telling her. He was confident she would follow, that much she could tell. But she did not. Instead, she just watched him walk, his lanky build casting a long shadow in front of him, his tangerine hair moving just slightly in the wind. As she watched him, she knew that this was the moment where the dreams she had nurtured over the months shall coalesced. This was the moment where the dreams shall no longer remain dreams.

Noticing her stillness, he stopped and turned back, his nose already red from the cold air. He glared at her sourly, the irritation clearly reflected in his lips that were turned down in a comical way.

Then suddenly a single drip of rain landed on her lashes, surprising her. A bubble of laughter escaped from her, for reasons she did not understand. He stared at her, not comprehending. And she continued laughing, watching the clouds of white mist that formed as her warm breath met the chilly air. "It's raining!"

His face contorted in a look of disbelief at her inane behavior. "And it's going to start _snowing_ if you don't hurry up." Growling slightly and still looking aghast, he crossed his arms to provide himself some warmth as he started walking away again. "Hurry up! I don't have an umbrella!"

She laughed again and with her footsteps light against the pavement, she ran to be in stride with him, their distance no further than an arm's length away. The space between them that used to divide them had vanished. The seemingly infinitely vast space she had thought impossible to cross over had vanished. He was real. He was right here. If she should reach out her hands, she would be able to touch him.

She could not say for sure how long this would last, but for now, this was the future she could see. This was her future that was just less than an arm's length away. And this future of hers twisted his head to snarl at her slow pace, and he unlocked his arms, stretched out and took her hand into his.

She smiled. This future that was holding her; it was enough. She was complete.

* * *

**- End -**

* * *

**Afterword:**

With this, my first multi-chaptered work finally comes to an end. I started this in 2005 and to think it's already 2008!

So I would like to thank all those who had actually perservered and followed me through all these years, and also great thanks to all those who stayed long enough to finish this story. Without all your lovely reviews and support, I might have drifted away and gotten lost somewhere.

I sincerely hope the ending brought a smile to your faces.

- bows -


End file.
